


Cyberspace

by eikyuu



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: AU: no actual ghostbusting, Abby and Patty are the best as usual, Anxiety, Depression, Dr. Gorin is Holtz's mom figure, F/F, Holtz also probably has issues, Long-Distance Relationship, Online Dating, Phil is in this one, Slow Burn, abby and erin are roomies, erin has issues, kevin is still dense but not completely dumb, might as well add that on at this point, once again everyone is very not straight, slight YouTube au, tropes and cliches as usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-08-12 22:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 36,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7951441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eikyuu/pseuds/eikyuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At barely-40, Erin Gilbert is living the life of an old woman: goes to bed at nine o'clock every night, hasn't been on a date in over a year, and the most exciting thing she has going on right now is the prospect of adopting a cat. Jillian Holtzmann's life is chaos, and she likes it that way, it helps distract from all the things that seem to be spiraling out of her control. The internet manages to provide them both with something they need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one will alternate between Erin-centric and Holtzmann-centric, since Interpersonal was all about Erin and I want to delve into more things with Jillian this time
> 
> I honestly have no idea how often this one will be updated, but it definitely isn't going to be done by the end of the week. I'm also not sure as to the length, other than "multi-chapter"

“Erin, _no_. Come on.”

               

“I’m just _looking_.”

               

“Looking leads to touching, which leads to _trouble_.”

               

Erin pouts a little as she gazes into the window of a pet store, looking in on an enclosure filled with kittens. “What if we only get one?”

               

“Then I’ll fall in love with it and then we’re both screwed, because I’m allergic as hell. Now come on, we’re already late for this meeting.” Abby hooks both her arms around one of Erin’s and pulls her away until they’re both walking down the street again.

               

Erin sighs. “I just want someone around when you’re away on trips…”

               

“Well, I hate to be _that_ person, Er, but you could try to re-enter the dating pool?”

               

“I’ve been too busy to devote time and effort to a _person_ , but a cat would be just the right amount of commitment. Besides, my last date was with—“

               

“Yes, I know. Your last date was with Kevin, who you’ve been chasing for over half a year and only said yes after he took pity on you, and who then proceeded to completely screw up the date to comical proportions. I know. That was a bad night, I had to pull soba noodles out of your hair when you got home.” She pats Erin’s shoulder sympathetically. “But have you considered that the solution to this problem isn’t to get a cat, but to maybe go on some dates? Keep it light and just work a little on your self-confidence, meet some new people?”

               

Erin just groans in reply. They arrive at whichever building this meeting is for, so Abby drops the conversation and they go inside. The meeting itself is beyond boring, it barely even relates to their current work at all. Erin doodles in the margins of her legal pad while she pretends to listen to what her department head is saying. Eventually, the meeting ends and Abby nudges her as the other people begin to leave. They get Starbucks on the way back to their apartment.

               

“I can’t believe how many grants we’re going to have to apply for this year for the physics department to get anywhere.” Abby flops onto the couch and sucks on the straw of her chai latte despairingly. “Get your schmoozing pants on, we’re in for a lot of ass-kissing.”

               

“Why can’t we just ask nicely?” Erin sits down beside her, messing with the cardboard sleeve around her cup.

               

“Because people who donate money and people who award grants like to feel like they’re investing in something that’s assured, and our field of research just doesn’t allow us to walk up to people and guarantee them that their money is going somewhere useful. So we have to come up with interesting ways to convince them, embellish the truth until they’re dying to give us assistance if it means they can share some of the glory of helping make a breakthrough.”

               

“Oh, _good_.”

               

“Well, that’s life. We’re cute, though, so I’m not too worried.”

               

“Instead of talking about manipulating rich people into funding us, let’s talk about dinner. Our fridge is totally empty.”

               

“That’s true. I’d suggest Chinese food, but I’m not in the mood for a pre-meal argument. How about we go down to that new taco truck down the street?”

               

“Sure.”

               

The pair go out to eat their dinner, and return to the couch to watch Netflix while they each peruse their laptops. At nine o’clock, Erin showers off and checks her e-mail one more time before she bids Abby good night and slips into her bed. This has been the schedule for the past two years, with maybe a handful of exceptions if Abby can convince her to stay out late one night, or once in a blue moon when they go out of town together. And Erin has herself convinced that it doesn’t bother her a bit that the only two people she has in her life right now are Abby and Patty. She has herself convinced that they’re enough.

               

Two weeks go by before Abby gets ready for another conference upstate. She gets involved with as many as possible, while the opposite is true of Erin, who is currently sprawled across Abby’s bed while the other woman packs her suitcase.

               

“It’s just a week long, and if you really didn’t want to be alone, you would come with me.”

               

“Do you know how freaked out I was when I presented for my doctorate? I don’t think participating in big public panels is a good idea.”

               

“Suit yourself, but I’m going to go and I’m going to have a good time. I’ll call you whenever I can, to check in on you and make sure you’re eating properly. And there better not be a cat in this apartment when I get back.”

               

“I’ll be _fine_. The apartment will be nice and quiet and I can focus more on my work.” Erin crosses her legs and looks up at the ceiling fan.

               

“Are you still planning the book?”

               

“Yeah, but I need more time to organize my thoughts. I’m having trouble visualizing the layout.”

               

“You should just try pouring everything out and sorting through it afterwards,” Abby suggests, tugging a pair of pants out from under Erin. “That’s how I wrote mine. And if you make progress while I’m gone, then I’ll look it over once I get back.”

               

“It’s worth a shot. After all, my approach hasn’t gotten me anywhere.”

               

“That’s the spirit.” Abby glances around her room to see if there’s anything she’s forgotten, then looks back down at Erin. “Promise me that you’ll go out? Even if it’s just with Patty. I don’t want you to coop yourself up in your room all week.”

               

“I will,” Erin replies indignantly, even though she knows that she would do just that if she could get away with it. But she already knows that Abby has told Patty to come check in on her, so there’s no use in trying.

               

“I know I sound like a mom right now, but I’m just a little worried about you. I don’t want you to get in a funk or anything.”

               

Erin knows what Abby is implying. She can still remember a time, not too long ago, when Abby wouldn’t even have _considered_ leaving her by herself. Their past was complicated, and full of struggles, and crying, and screaming. There are still times where decisions Erin made come back to bite her in the ass, and moments in her relationship with Abby that are just as strained as they were all those years ago. She can’t really blame her friend for worrying, even now.

               

“I’m okay, Abs. And if I’m not, I’ll call Patty. I promise.” She’s said it a hundred times before, but it’s just as important every time.

               

Abby’s eyes linger on Erin, it’s a look that she’s seen many times before, and it never fails to make her heart ache with a mixture of emotions. “I trust you, Erin.”

               

They walk down to the lobby of the apartment building before they say their goodbyes. Erin hugs Abby tightly, wishes her luck, and watches her disappear into the waiting cab across the street. Once she gets back to the apartment, Erin eats a bowl of cereal and watches the game-show network until she falls asleep, stretched out on the couch.

               

The week is rather uneventful, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Erin is mostly left alone with her numbers and figures, and she makes some headway in her latest postulation. Lunchbreaks are spent in Patty’s office in the history building, which has just recently been renovated and still smells like fresh paint. The book is amounting to half a dozen pages of chicken scratch in her notebook, and an intimidatingly blank word document that has been ten typed pages before being backspaced back to nothingness. The first couple of nights are pleasantly quiet, spent reading cheesy romance novels and watching awful movies on the Hallmark channel. These nights are broken up with a couple dinners out with Patty and Kevin, who both listen attentively to her talk about her work even though it’s definitely beyond their respective areas of expertise.

               

Towards the weekend, when Abby is due to return, it's midnight and Erin can’t fight off the restless loneliness that settles into her chest. She wraps herself in the extra comforter that they keep in the linen closet and sips on a glass of wine as she looks through a list of popular dating sites. Part of her is resentful for even seeking out sites like True Match and Cupid’s Choice, but there’s another part, which sounds suspiciously like Abby, telling her that it’s worth a shot. She halfway fills out one profile, finishes another, and gets partway through the questionnaire before defiance takes hold and she clicks away, until suddenly she’s stumbled into a more obscure corner of the internet.

               

One link catches her eye, and Erin finds herself on a site meant to be a message-board for people to simply chat, a platonic True Match, in a way. Despite the fact that it’s not licensed or in any way official, it seems to be quite popular, and it’s free. Erin closes her previous windows and decides to create a profile. Most usernames are people’s full names followed by numbers, but to keep things anonymous she chooses _particklephysics,_ because her drunk brain seems to think it’s both ingenious and hilarious. The last thing Erin remembers before falling asleep is choosing a photo of herself, wearing her favorite suit jacket over her favorite pin-striped shirt, with her face artistically cropped out as her profile picture.

               

The next morning welcomes Erin with a blinding headache and a crick in her neck. She gracelessly rolls right off the couch and onto the cold floor. Her laptop is still open on the coffee table, but presumably died sometime after she passed out. After a moment of groaning and trying to find her equilibrium, Erin gets up and plugs in her laptop before assessing the pile of crumpled blankets on the floor, and the empty wine glass sitting beside the wine bottle with an impressive amount of its contents gone. She pushes her hair from her face and cleans up the living room, mentally noting that letting her isolation get the best of her was a bad idea that only ended in pain. Next time, instead of indulging it, she’d just call Patty and go to bed early.

               

Once the computer powered back on, it began chiming with notifications. Erin, who was in the kitchen shaking aspirin into her hand, was quickly much more interested in what the laptop was doing than in curing last night’s bad decisions. She lowered the brightness on the screen and opened her web browser, suddenly remembering the website she had joined. Apparently, she had begun a conversation with _someone_ , because the messenger app was opened and had multiple text bubbles back and forth. Dread and embarrassment flooded over Erin as she prepared to read this conversation, and then promptly delete her account.

                **_Hiighvoltaage has messaged you._**

                [2:03AM] _Hiighvoltaage_ _: Hey there, I see on your profile that you’ve chosen Physics as your main interest. Don’t see many of those on here, care to talk about the wonders of subatomic particles with me sometime?_

 

[2:05AM] _Particklephysics: Absoltuly, I’m always ready to talk about partickles!_

                [2:05AM] _Particklephysics: You could say that physics TICKLES me haha_

 

[2:06AM] _Hiighvoltaage: You okay there?_

 

[2:09AM] _Particklephysics: I might be a liiittle drunk at the moment_

 

[2:15AM] _Hiighvoltaage_ _: Aha, that is apparent to me now._

[2:16AM] _Hiighvoltaage_ _: Have you had this conversation before? Explaining the username?_

 

[2:22AM] _Particklephysics: Actually no, I just made this whole account tonight because its better than the cupid matchmaker or whatever site_

 

[2:27AM] _Hiighvoltaage_ _: So are you planning to use this site to meet eligible scientists then?_

 

[2:31AM] _Particklephysics:  What? No I mean I’m choosing intellectual prusuits over romance and maybe meet a friend or two so Abby will get off my back_

 

[2:36AM] _Hiighvoltaage: That’s very noble of you. Maybe we can talk more when you sober up?_

[2:55AM] _Hiighvoltaage_ _: I’m assuming you’ve fallen asleep, so goodnight_

               

Erin sits there, mortified. The only positive thing about this is that she hasn’t seemed to have contacted anyone other than this person. She briefly checks  _Hiighvoltaage_ ’s profile, only to find that, like her, this person has chosen to leave off most of their personal information, including what their face looks like. Heart beating faster with anxiety, Erin reopens the messenger and types into the text box.

 

                [10:13AM] _Particklephysics: Oh my god, I’m so sorry about last night._

                [10:13AM] _Particklephysics: I’m so embarrassed._

                [10:14AM] _Particklephysics: I’m going to leave you alone forever now._

 

After waiting a few minutes, and even refreshing the page a couple times, Erin shuts her laptop and goes to take a shower. Once presentable, she decides to just go to the grocery store so that Abby can come home to a restocked kitchen. She meanders down the aisles and grabs the necessities: fruit, vegetables, eggs, cereal, coffee, milk and a few packages of meat, and then a bag of chips and a couple bars of chocolate for good measure.

 

By the time Erin gets back to the apartment, she brain isn’t quite as frantic as before, but she’s still thinking about the person she talked to last night. Even though really it shouldn’t matter that she went on a random site anonymously and had a brief conversation with another anonymous person who probably couldn’t care less that she’d come across like a moron. This was someone she’d never have to see in person. But her brain wasn’t always logical, so she still felt apprehensive when she sat down and reopened her laptop. The messenger chimed with a notification, to her mild surprise.

 

                [1:35PM] _Hiighvoltaage_ _: Don’t worry about it. I’d still be up to talk sometime, if you’re as fun sober as you are drunk ;-)_

Her face flushes and, with some other emotion thrumming in her chest, she types.

 

                [1:37PM] _Particklephysics: I’m actually not sure what part of that conversation amused you, so I can’t confirm or deny if I’m fun when I’m sober. But, if you would like to talk physics, I think I’d like to talk again. You seem like a nice person._

 

                [1:45PM] _Hiighvoltaage_ _:_ _Sure thing. Let’s use this site for the intended purpose, shall we? I have a few other correspondences going on right now, and a weird work schedule, but I’ll try my best to respond when I can._

 

[1:49PM] _Particklephysics: That sounds good to me. I’m using this site casually, but I’ll probably check my messages when I get home from work in the evenings._

 

[1:53PM] _Hiighvoltaage: Sounds like a plan. See you later, gotta run!_

               

Erin bites her lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard.

 

                [2:00PM] _Particklephysics: I’m Erin, by the way._

After a couple moments, she second-guesses the decision to drop her name, panics, and tries to delete the message.

 

                [2:08PM] _Hiighvoltaage_ _: I'm Holtzmann. Nice to meet you, Erin._


	2. Chapter 2

Abby returns that evening, and Erin’s brief encounter with the enigmatic Holtzmann is forgotten for the moment. Even in the space of one week, Erin can’t believe how much she’s missed her friend. She listens to Abby recount her trip with rapt attention, even though half of the stories are complaints.

               

“Dr. Houser was in the hotel room next to mine, and let me tell you, that man snores like _bear_. The walls _shook_. After the first night, I had to go to a pharmacy and buy myself some sleeping pills just to be able to function during the day.”

               

“So did you listen to any interesting presentations?”

               

“Yeah, I actually recorded one of them for you, I thought it might be something you’d like to hear. And all of my panels were really engaging, too.” Abby digs around in the backpack she has sitting by her feet, and pulls out a pink t-shirt. “Also, this is for you. They ran out of smalls, so it’ll probably be a little loose on you.”

               

Erin takes the shirt and holds it at arm’s length to examine it. The name of the conference is printed in green letters on the front. “That’s okay, I’ll use it to sleep in. Thanks, Abs.”

               

“No problem. So, what did you do this week? Any progress on your book?”

               

“Eh, not so much.” Erin suddenly remembers her night of wine-induced idiocy, and chooses to leave that detail out. “I went out with Patty and Kevin a couple times, so that was nice. Other than that, not anything noteworthy.”

               

Abby hums and nods. “Well, would you want to go out again tonight? I’d like to see Patty too, maybe give her the coffee mug I got her.”

               

Erin smiles. “Sure, that sounds like a nice way to end the weekend.”

               

Abby calls Patty, and once the plans are made, they begin getting ready. Erin combs through her hair and changes out of her sweatpants and into jeans. Once she deems herself presentable, she meets Abby in the living room and they go downstairs to hail a cab. The restaurant they’ve chosen is busy, so the trio choose to sit at the bar together. Everyone exchanges small-talk and any interesting stories from their respective weeks. After dinner, they all go back to Patty’s townhouse, which she shares with her cousin, who is currently out of town. They drink tea and watch X-Files until Abby checks her watch and declares that they should call it a night.

               

Once Erin retires to her bedroom, she sits at her desk and opens her laptop. A chime alerts her that she should check the message-board.

                [10:15PM] _Hiighvoltaage: I’ll be around in the mornings and evenings if you ever want to chat._

 

The message is simple, casual. Something Erin is oftentimes incapable of.

 

                [10:17PM] _Particklephysics: I’ll be sure to keep that in mind._

 

Through the next week, and the one after that, Erin’s messages with Holtzmann are few and far between. It’s the awkward, overly-polite tone of an acquaintanceship, with both parties attempting to feel each other out. Holtzmann asks her how her day has been sometimes, which Erin likes more than she thinks she should, but she isn’t comfortable enough to go into much detail. Sometimes she refers to Abby, who Holtzmann remembered Erin mentioning during their first encounter, but mostly they talk about scientific concepts.

 

It was obvious that, whoever Holtzmann was, they were extremely intelligent. They also refrained from sharing personal information, but they talked about particle physics with seemingly endless enthusiasm. Erin enjoyed the fact that their discussions were casual and almost purely intellectual. All of her friends, who knew every painful detail of her life, always made demands of her. She wouldn’t deny that it was good for her, to be pushed to do more, be more social, answer tough questions as honestly as possible, but it was also nice to have one person in her life whom she could make an entirely new impression on, someone who didn’t know her past. It was painless, she didn’t have to think about it.

               

The messaging site launched a mobile app as it gained popularity, and Erin deleted Candy Crush to make room for it. Holtzmann apparently did, too, because they began messaging her during the late afternoon, in addition to the evenings and occasionally the mornings. Based on some of the comments they’d made about being free for their lunch break, Erin was fairly sure they lived somewhere on the west coast, a few hours behind her own time-zone.

 

One night, they’re in the middle of a discussion relating to Quantum Field Theory when Holtzmann changes the subject.

 

                [8:45PM] _Hiighvoltaage: Random question, what’s your favorite movie?_

 

[8:47PM] _Particklephysics: I’d probably have to say 50 First Dates. Why?_

 

[8:49PM] _Hiighvoltaage: Dunno. Just watching the Nonstop-Movies channel, and it popped into my brain._

 

[8:50PM] _Particklephysics: Ah. What’s yours then?_

 

                [8:55PM] _Hiighvoltaage: Wizard of Oz. I was a flying monkey every Halloween for six years._

 

[8:57PM] _Particklephysics: That’s a good one. I still listen to Somewhere Over the Rainbow sometimes._

 

                [9:00PM] _Hiighvoltaage: Of course you do, it’s a classic after all. My personal favorite is The Wicked Witch Is Dead._

 

[9:02PM] _Particklephysics:_ _So you like musicals then? Any other kinds of movies?_

 

[9:04PM] _Hiighvoltaage: Yes! Rent, Avenue Q, Wicked, Rocky Horror Picture Show, you name it. I also love Young Frankenstein, Killer Clowns from Outer Space etc. etc._

 

[9:06PM] _Particklephysics: I’m pretty boring, I just like most romantic comedies._

 

[9:07PM] _Hiighvoltaage: That’s not boring, Erin. You like what you like._

 

This marks a shift in their relationship, if you can even call it that yet. Holtzmann starts to ask questions about Erin’s likes and dislikes, nothing too pressing or personal. Some days, they simply exchange questions back and forth, and piece by piece Erin learns more about Holtzmann. Their favorite color is green, they have a mild addiction to Pringles, they listen to nonstop Hits of the 80’s playlists, and they work somewhere as an engineer. Erin is also pretty sure that Holtzmann is a woman, but she doesn’t want to jump to conclusions yet. Only now she had to wait until they reveal this about themselves, because the appropriate time to ask them has already come and gone.

               

Eventually, Abby starts to notice that Erin has been engrossed in her phone lately. She comments on it one evening while they pack up in the lab.

               

“Have you met someone?” she asks, one eyebrow raised and a smile playing on her lips.

               

“What makes you think that?” Erin replies defensively, as transparent as ever.

               

“Don’t think I haven’t been noticing you checking your phone all day. You never do that, you barely have the presence of mind to pick up when I call you.”

               

“It’s nothing,” Erin tries to sound reassuring. “I’ve been emailing with another scientist, that’s all.” She figures that telling most of the truth will be the easiest way to end the inquiry. Abby looks suspicious.

               

“It must be one hell of a discussion, because you’ve been smiling a lot.”

               

“Have I…?” Erin mutters. She knows that she enjoys the weird jokes Holtzmann has been sending her, but she had assumed that her facial reaction had been minimal. Apparently, she just sucked at being discrete.

               

Abby stares a moment longer, before she relents. “Well, whatever it is, I hope they’re sharing some good information with you.”

               

Erin nods, but as she follows Abby out she nearly snorts when she sees the new message Holtzmann has sent her.

 

                [5:14PM] _Hiighvoltaage: So a photon checks into a hotel. The bellhop asks, “Can I help you with your luggage?”_

                [5:14PM] _Hiighvoltaage: So the photon says, “I don’t have any. I’m traveling light.”_

                [5:15PM] _Hiighvoltaage: Get it???_

 

“Yes, it’s definitely good information,” she replies, trying to suppress a giggle.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life of Jillian Holtzmann

Jillian sits at a proper desk, chewing on an already-chewed-up pencil, and squinting down at the mountain of papers before her. She was trying to decipher whatever she had written the previous night at 4:00AM, but her usual cursive was more like a frenzied scribble. Words and phrases were clustered all over the place, interspersed with little sketches of different mechanical parts and how they fit together. Some of it was in pen, smudged beyond recognition, other parts were stained with _something_ that she assumed was barbecue sauce. Also, being ambidextrous meant that she frequently switched hands when she was trying to jot down notes _and_ work on whatever project she had in front of her, which meant she had two distinct kinds of handwriting, both of them messy.

               

“Note to self: ease up on the Red Bull and five-hour energy shots during the wee hours of the morning,” Holtzmann mutters as she picks up a page a twists it around to see from different angles. “The boss ain’t gonna like this…”

               

“Not going to like what?” Holtz jumps a little as she spins around to see Dr. Gorin leaning in the doorway of the cramped office, arms folded across her chest.

               

“Uh, I may or may not have any idea what I was doing last night,” Holtz admits, and quickly turns back to her papers to shuffle through them. “I think I might need to take apart what I just finished, to make sure I know where I’m going with it.”

               

Rebecca sighs her long-suffering sigh, and adjusts her glasses. “Jillian, that’s going to set us back another several hours. We can’t keep pushing the schedule back like this, or we’re never going to get everything built on-time, and then we’ll lose our funding on this project.”

               

Holtzmann grimaces at the tone, hating herself for stressing out the older woman so much. “Sorry, I’ve just been a little sloppy lately. I’ll be better.”

               

“If you keep insisting on all the new, innovative approaches to doing things, you need to make sure you _know_ what you’re doing. You’re more than capable of handling this, that’s why I asked you specifically to come work with me in the first place. Just make sure we have something concrete by the end of the month, will you? You’re more than welcome to boss around the others, you’ve got seniority. Use them to your advantage.”

               

“Duly noted, utilize the worker monkeys,” Holtzmann replies, jotting something down on a clean piece of scratch paper. “I can take it apart and put it back together like Forrest Gump can reassemble a rifle. It’ll be fine.”

               

Gorin grunts, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “And please go home and sleep tonight. You’re punchy,” she adds as she disappears down the hall.

               

“Also noted!” Holtzmann calls after her.

               

The lab is already bustling when she gets back, the assistants and other engineers on staff are all rushing around with a sense of urgency. She strolls right down the middle of the room towards her workspace, holding an impressive stack of papers in each hand.

               

“Tiffany, Pedro, and…Jenn. You three come here, I’ve got jobs for you.” Holtz still isn’t very comfortable with giving orders, she’s never been a team player, much less a boss. In fact, one of the things that had originally appealed to her about engineering had been the concept of being alone: nothing but the machines, her, and a good Joan Jett playlist. This was well outside her skill-set.

               

The three assistants gather around her with wide eyes while she sets down her things on her work-bench. “Alright, this is for you,” she lists off as she hands Tiffany a paper with detailed notes and well-thought-out diagrams on it, “and, these are for you two.” She gives out the other two papers to their respective recipients.        

       

“Once you’ve got the pieces assembled, drop them off with me and I’ll give you something else to work on.” They all share a slightly startled look before they scatter in different directions. Holtzmann has a feeling that these graduate students are intimidated by her, despite the fact that every single one of them is at least four inches taller.

 

Once she’s situated in her own space, Holtz starts playing her music, more softly than she usually would because she’s already realized that zoning out isn’t something she can do when there are a bunch of people around who might need her help. Pulling the latest component of the machine in front of her, she grabs the screwdriver and begins to disassemble it.

 

“I’m sorry baby,” she murmurs, “We’ll get you up and running again once I make sure I know how I built you.”

 

“Dr. Holtzmann,” Tiffany says, approaching Jillian cautiously as to not disturb her work, “I have just a couple questions about this component.”

 

Holtz pulls her goggles up and swivels towards the girl, who can’t be more than 23. “What’s up?”

 

Slowly, timidly, she creeps closer and holds up the paper for Holtzmann to see. “This part, I think I need help with it…?”

 

Holtzmann glances back at her gutted machine, and then at the girl. “No problem. Let’s go see if we can work out the issue.”

 

The day is very productive, to Holtzmann’s surprise. The team gets almost completely back on schedule under her supervision. At eight o’clock, Dr. Gorin returns and banishes Holtzmann from the premises, and home to her cat, Marie.

 

“Hey, Madame Curie,” she mumbles softly as the calico noisily greets her and rubs furiously against her legs, “I bet you want dinner, huh?”

 

After refilling the automatic feeder, Holtz kicks off her boots and flops across her sofa to watch TV while she eats instant ramen. Halfway through _Sharknado 2_ , she falls asleep with Marie curled up on her chest.

 

The next morning, Holtzmann wakes up to a message from Erin. She smiles in her half-conscious haze, and lazily wishes her good morning, along with the couple other people she’s been messaging. The next step in the morning routine is to assess how crazy her hair looks right now in her bathroom mirror. As with any night she spends on the couch, it’s broken loose of all the bobby pins and is now springing out at every angle like she’s jammed her finger into a light socket. She takes a long shower, and changes into fresh clothes. A glance at her watch tells her that she has a few moments to herself before she goes back to the lab, so she sits down on her beat-up old recliner and checks her phone.

 

                [8:36AM] _Hiighvoltaage: Sorry for the disappearance yesterday. The lab was crazy hectic._

 

                [8:40AM] _Particklephysics: Don’t worry about it. I’ve actually just made a breakthrough in my research, so I got caught up in it._

 

                [8:41AM] _Hiighvoltaage:_ _That’s awesome! You were hung up on that one equation for a while, right?_

 

                [8:42AM] _Particklephysics: Yes! I was so frustrated that I wanted to push my whiteboard out the window and give up. But yesterday I was staring at it, and suddenly I realized what was missing. Eureka moments are so satisfying_

 

Even though Holtzmann had quite a few “buddies” on this app, Erin was special. She, (at least, Holtzmann was _assuming_ they were a she, based on the spelling), was not only the first scientist she had met on this site, there was something about her that put Holtzmann at ease. In the swirling storm of project after project, looming deadlines, and many, many other things that Holtzmann was navigating, Erin was the eye, a calm moment.

 

Holtzmann didn’t put much stock in the sustainability of a long-distance relationship, even if it was just a friendship, but she still hoped theirs would continue to grow. She was itching to learn more about the physicist: how her voice sounded, what her handwriting looked like, if she dog-eared the books she read or if she kept them pristine, if she preferred tea or coffee. It was probably just her scientist’s curiosity, but Holtzmann had to reign in all the inquiries she hit Erin with on a daily basis. They had been officially chatting for just over a month now, but their relationship felt a bit unbalanced: they knew each other’s personalities fairly well, and a handful of trivia, but for the most part they were still strangers. Hell, they still weren’t totally sure what gender the other was.

 

After a few more messages back and forth chronicling Erin’s success, Holtzmann had to sign off for the rest of the day. The lab was as chaotic as usual, and poor, sweet Tiffany was attempting to put out a fire that Pedro had managed to start.

 

When Gorin once again sent Holtzmann home that night, saying “You do so much better when your brain is fully functional, come back when you’re useful,” she picked up a sandwich from a local deli and ate in her room with the radio on. Marie sat at the foot of her bed and waited to be handed some of the turkey from her plate, but Holtz was too busy messaging Erin.

 

[9:12PM] _Hiighvoltaage: I have a proposition for you: this app totally wipes out my battery during the day, but I still want to be able to talk to you. I was hoping we could exchange numbers, if you’re comfortable with that._

 

[9:30PM] _Particklephysics: I was in the shower, sorry. Yes though! You can definitely have my number._

 

Holtzmann puts a star emoji beside Erin’s name when she saves her in her contacts.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good ol fashioned doubt

Erin wasn’t good at texting. You could ask anyone on her rather short list of contacts, and they’d all agree: she read the messages and forgot to reply, she’d get distracted and leave vague messages that inspired worry, and on the off-chance she _did_ reply, each and every sentence was grammatically perfect with appropriate punctuation. Holtzmann picked up on it quickly, and teased her about it.

 

                _Holtzmann: you text like my grandma lol_

 

 _Erin_ _:_ _Well I’m sorry that I like to come across coherently and respectably._

_Erin:_ _Oh god. I just realized how nerdy that sounds. I’m just used to only texting colleagues and superiors._

 

                  _Holtzmann: nah, don’t worry about it_

_Holtzmann: I really only text my boss lady, but she’s known me long enough to find my sloppy 3AM texts endearing_

_Holtzmann: which reminds me, I might sometimes text you at odd hours_

 

Since they’d traded phone numbers, Erin noticed that Holtzmann seemed to be much more relaxed than they were on the message-board. It was likely due to the fact that it was much easier to type out a text than to get on the app, but the engineer had been asking even more questions than before. They had assured Erin that she could ask anything, so one day she decided to go for broke.

 

                _Erin_ _: Okay, this might seem like a really stupid question, but I’ve already waited an uncomfortably long time to ask it, so might as well do it now._

 

_Holtzmann: shoot_

 

 _Erin_ _: Are you a woman or a man? I’m really sorry if it’s rude of me to ask, but I just didn’t want to presume anything._

 

_Holtzmann: don’t worry about it. I’m a lady_

_Holtzmann: I was actually kinda assuming you were also?_

 

 _Erin_ _: Yes, I’m also a lady._

 

_Holtzmann: Coolio. Glad that awkward little tidbit is out of the way_

               

Erin felt a bit relieved that she knew, and it hadn’t even been a big deal. Plus, for some reason, she had kind of been hoping that Holtzmann was a woman, it fit into the image of her that was already forming in her head. They went back and forth every day, the questions ranging from what schools they had attended and their respective degrees, to what their astrological signs and their shoe sizes were. After a few weeks of this, Erin felt ready to tentatively refer to Holtzmann as an actual friend.

               

Some days they hardly spoke at all, but Holtz made sure to send a link to a funny video or picture before she went to bed at night. They slowly learned each other’s schedules, which opened Holtzmann up to Erin’s nagging texts at 5 o’clock Holtz’s-time to remember to eat dinner. Holtzmann always sent “good morning” and “good night” texts whenever she could.

               

Erin still hadn’t told Abby, or anyone for that matter, about Holtz. She didn’t necessarily feel obligated to divulge every detail to her friends, but she also wanted this to be just hers for a while longer. She had a hunch that, if they met, Holtzmann would make her friends like her just as much as Erin did, maybe even more. Her personality was magnetic, constantly pulling you closer. Erin wanted to ingrain herself into Holtz’s life as much as she could before she introduced her to anyone, so that there could be no way she’d be replaced. Only, _maybe_ she was getting a little ahead of herself here. It was just…so _exciting_ to have a new person to talk to. It might not be very remarkable for other people to make new friends, but Erin was one step removed from being a total recluse, so for her this was a big deal.

It’s been several weeks’ worth of texts before she considers asking to see Holtzmann’s face. She’s nervous, worried that for some reason there will be a problem, or, her paranoid brain supplies, it could be that Holtzmann has been lying about herself the entire time for some nefarious reason.

 

                _Erin_ _: I’ve been wondering…_

 

_Holtzmann: Yes?_

 

 _Erin_ _: If you wanted to Skype or something? It would be nice to be able to put a face to a name._

 

_Holtzmann: Sure, but it’ll probably have to be late at night, with the hours I’ve been working lately._

 

 _Erin_ _: That’s not a problem, I can stay up. How about this Friday?_

 

_Holtzmann: Perfect. I look forward to it_

 

Erin feels excitement rise up in her throat, and smiles nervously at the thought of their first face-to-face encounter. Finally, she would get to know the answers to the questions that were a little too weird to ask: the pitch of her voice, the way she looked when she smiled, if her hair was long or short.

               

Abby peeked over the top of her laptop. “Ok, Erin. The jig is up. You gotta tell me who you’ve been texting the past couple months.”

               

Erin breaks out of her daze, looking slightly startled. “Who?”

               

“I’ve held my silence long enough. You’ve been texting _someone_ , and I can tell that it isn’t work-related.”

               

Her mind scrambles for a moment, before she decides to just come clean. “Ok, _fine_. I’ve been texting someone. What’s the big deal? Am I not allowed to know people other than you and Patty?”

               

“No, but I just would like to know why you’ve been dodging my questions about whoever this mystery person is.”

               

Erin tries not to be offended, she really does. Even after all the progress she’s made, Abby still doesn’t trust her completely. “It’s not a mystery person, _Abby_. Her name is Holtzmann, and she’s an engineer living in San Francisco. We met online.”

               

Abby looks skeptical. “What’s her first name?”

 

“I don’t know. She prefers going by her last name, and I didn’t want to be rude by asking.”

 

“Okay, well what does she look like?”

 

“I don’t know yet, but we’re going to Skype soon.”

 

“How old is she?”

 

“I don’t _know_ —“

 

“Have you spoken on the phone?”

 

“ _No_ , Okay?” Erin can feel her face get hot. She doesn’t like getting mad at Abby, but there’s no way she’s going to sit there and get grilled about how little she still knows about Holtzmann, and having all her fears getting brought up to boot.

               

Abby holds her hands up. “Hey, I’m not trying to pick on you, I just don’t want you to get catfished by some creep over the internet. No offence Er, but you can be a little naïve when it comes to stuff like this.”

               

Erin looks down at the black screen of her phone, resting on her lap. “I know what I’m doing. I’m being careful. I haven’t shown my face either, or offered her any information that she hasn’t reciprocated. She hasn’t said anything creepy, made me uncomfortable, or been reluctant to show me her face.”

               

“Well, that’s good at least.” Abby sounds like she’s trying to dissipate some of the tension, her tone gentle rather than suspicious. “I only ask because I want to protect you. And I’m nosy.”

               

Erin feels a small smile on her lips. “I’ll try to give you updates on the Holtzmann situation. I don’t want to make you worry. I also want you to trust me, though. I’m an adult, and I can handle myself.”

               

Abby nods. “I know you are. I’ll reign in the random interrogations.”

               

“Thank you.”

 

* * *

 

 

Friday eventually arrives, and Erin is bouncing nervously as she and Abby make it back to the apartment after work. There’s still more waiting to do, since Holtzmann is behind by three hours, but she still goes straight to her room and begins setting things up. First off, anything out of place is cleaned up, then Erin gathers up all the lamps to make sure her dated webcam can properly display her face, and finally her laptop is plugged in and loading Skype.

 

She and Abby eat together in the kitchen for once, and then they retire to the living room for a movie. Erin is checking her phone every ten minutes, though, to see the time or any possible messages. Eventually, 10 o’clock rolls around, and Erin jumps up and goes back to her room to change into something that isn’t sweat-stained from a full day of nervousness. She’s both giddy and imploding as she manages to pull on a sweater, and runs her hands through her hair. Erin’s phone chimes with a text, and she struggles not to dive for it.

 

_Holtzmann: off of work and heading home! See u in twenty_

 

A small groan escapes Erin as she flops onto her bed.

 

 _Erin_ _: Okay! See you soon._

 

She stares at the ceiling for a while before getting back up and sitting down at her desk to check her Skype account. It’s constantly updating and crashing, so she wants to make sure there aren’t any bugs. A few minutes later, her phone chimes again.

 

_Holtzmann: username is hiighvolaage. Add me and I’ll sign on in a sec_

 

 Heartbeat rising, Erin types in the familiar username and requests hiighvoltaage as a contact. After an uncomfortable wait, Skype notifies her that Holtzmann has added her.

 

_Hiighvoltaage: hey gimme a sec_

_Hiighvoltaage: my webcam is messed up for some reason :/_

 

Erin mentally panics. She stares at the messages on her screen, unsure how to respond. All of a sudden, Abby’s questions come back to her mind, and she wonders if she should’ve been so sure that Holtzmann was being honest. Her phone jerks her out of her swarm of anxious thoughts with yet another chime.

 

_Holtzmann: Erin, I’m really sorry_

_Holtzmann: my cat busted my webcam I think_

_Holtzmann: maybe we can skype some other time?_


	5. Chapter 5

“Damn it, Marie,” Holtzmann grumbles as she fiddles with her dead clip-on webcam. Upon closer inspection, the lens is cracked, which she reckons happened when she found it on the floor of her room earlier this week. “You’re not allowed to rub against my computer screen anymore.”

               

She felt guilty about letting Erin down, and disappointed herself that she wouldn’t get to see the physicist face-to-face yet. She set down the device for a moment to type out another apology.

 

                _Holtzmann: I’ll try to go to a Radio Shack or something this weekend to get a replacement, and maybe we can Skype sometime next week? I really am sorry, my cat is an asshole. She’s not allowed on my desk anymore._

 

_Erin: Could we Face Time or something?_

 

_Holtzmann: I don’t think you can video call between androids and iPhones_

 

_Erin: That’s okay. Maybe some other time then._

_Erin: Goodnight._

 

                Erin proceeds to ignore Holtzmann for the entire next week. Every time she sends her something, whether it’s just a stream of consciousness during the day, or a question that pops into her head, there’s nothing but silence on the other end. Jillian decides to chock it up to Erin having a busy life, but there’s something about it that makes her uneasy. By Friday, she's a bit of a nervous mess. She’s been distracted at work too, constantly chided by Gorin for her mistakes, and occasionally zapping herself on bare wire when she isn’t paying enough attention. She gets home and pulls up her messages on her phone, propping up her loafer-clad feet on the coffee table.

 

                _Holtzmann: Hey_

_Holtzmann: You up?_

 

                After a few minutes she’s almost ready to give up and go make herself some self-pity brownies for dinner, but finally her phone vibrates.

 

                _Erin: Yeah. I’m up._

 

_Holtzmann: How have you been this week? Haven’t heard from you_

 

_Erin: I’m sorry, I’ve been busy._

_Erin: Actually, that’s only half-true. I’ve been kind of worried._

 

_Holtzmann: About what?_

 

_Erin: That your webcam isn’t really broken._

 

Holtzmann feels a little offended, but tries to take a step back and see it from Erin’s perspective.

 

_Holtzmann: Can you give me a benefit of the doubt here?_

 

_Erin: Did you get a new webcam?_

 

_Holtzmann: No, I didn’t. I’ve been kind of worried all week since you haven’t been speaking to me, so I haven’t had a chance_

 

                Well, that was just a little incriminating, she has to admit. Holtz bites her lip.

 

                _Holtzmann: Would it make you feel better if I send a picture of myself?_

 

_Erin: Maybe._

 

_Holtzmann: Would it make you feel better if I can give you something better than a picture?_

 

_Erin: What do you mean?_

 

                Holtz gets up and goes to her laptop, lazily clicking through to her web browser.

 

                _Holtzmann: Do you go on YouTube much?_

 

_Erin: Not really, no. Why?_

 

_Holtzmann: Look up HighVoltageLab_

 

* * *

 

 

Erin does as she’s told, her curiosity getting the better of her. A YouTube channel pops up when she searches for HighVoltageLab, boasting over 300,000 subscribers. The icon is a nuclear symbol with a pink heart in the center, and all the videos have various machines as the thumbnails. Erin clicks on one titled “WHAT NOT TO DO IN THE LAB”.

               

An intro plays at the start of the video, incorporated with the same symbol as the icon, and an upbeat nondescript theme song. Erin holds her breath as the video opens with a roll of paper towels on a workbench, surrounded by what looks like a well-supplied lab, and with blaring 80’s music playing in the background. Suddenly, a blonde woman dances into the frame, wielding a blowtorch in either hand. She’s wearing a baggy grey lab coat and a pair of yellow safety goggles, her crazy hair pulled into a bun and a manic smile plastered to her face. At the climax of the final chorus, she spreads her arms wide and twirls around, effectively torching the paper towels and a few pieces of paper scattered across the tabletop. The video then cuts to the woman dancing back into view with a fire extinguisher, and eventually putting out the flames. Cut to the woman sitting calmly at the work bench, the goggles now replaced with yellow sunglasses.

               

“Hey guys. Don’t do what I just did. Rule number one: no dance parties around open flames,” the blonde woman says into the camera. “In all seriousness though, this video was a long time coming. I always try to include safety rules and disclaimers in every video I make, but there were a lot of people who wanted a more in-depth list of things that you _absolutely_ should never do in a laboratory setting. I’m Holtzmann, and this is High Voltage Lab.”

               

Erin gapes at her, and Holtzmann’s voice fades into the background as she takes in her features: the unruly blonde hair that’s piled atop her head and spilling out of the bun, the bright blue eyes behind the yellow lenses, the infectious little smile she wears every so often. The brunette goes through an hour’s worth of videos to find that Holtzmann’s channel is a more extreme version of _Bill Nye the Science Guy,_ if Bill was a beautiful nuclear engineer with a penchant for setting things on fire. Her videos taught the viewers how to do basic level robotics and engineering projects mostly, and she constantly added in weird jokes and references to keep things interesting and fun. With that much bizarre charisma, it was no mystery how she’d amassed so many subscribers. Erin’s phone chimes after a while.

 

                _Holtzmann: Need proof to back that up, or are we good?_

 

_Erin: I feel like such a jerk. I’m sorry. Sometimes I get paranoid, and I overreact._

 

_Holtzmann: It’s okay, I understand. I can go get a new webcam tomorrow, and we can Skype on Sunday?_

 

_Erin: Okay. That sounds good._

               

Erin still feels like a royal asshole, even after the engineer assures her that they’re okay. Holtz even sends her a selfie for good measure, donning Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajamas and holding up her cat, the one that had busted her webcam. When Erin had offered to reciprocate, Holtzmann had replied that she wanted to be surprised. They said goodnight, and Erin fell asleep shortly after. She dreamed of fluffy blonde hair and safety goggles all night.

               

Sunday came around after a small eternity, and this time everything went without a hitch. Skype ran smoothly, and Holtz assured her that the new webcam was fully functional. The call went through after a few moments of suspense. Sure enough, Holtzmann appeared on the other end, smiling lazily as she studies Erin.

               

“Hey.” She rests her chin on one hand, her eyes moving across every part of Erin displayed by the camera. “Come here often?” Her eyebrows wag flirtatiously.

               

Erin practically squirms in her seat, feeling her face grow warm. “Hey yourself,” she replies, smiling shyly. Even though she’s now watched every single video on Holtzmann’s channel, this is so much more intimate, and she’s completely unprepared for the way the other woman is looking at her.

               

“You’re not at all how I pictured you,” Holtzmann admits after a pause. “But I think you look even better than what I expected.”

               

Erin smiles back at Holtzmann, rubbing her hands on her jeans. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I think I might’ve just been imagining Miss Frizzle from the Magic School Bus.”

               

Holtz beams at that. “Really? Well, I’m honored. I’ve always striven to emulate her in every aspect of my life. Except taking any hallucinogenic drugs, which I’m pretty sure she did.”

               

As they keep talking, Erin feels herself ease into it. There’s something warm and easy-going about the way Holtz is leaning forward slightly on her desk, smiling, watching Erin with rapt attention when she’s talking.

               

“So what got you started on YouTube?”

               

“I decided to do videos because I kept seeing people who were exploding things in their garages on YouTube, and I thought hey, I can do that, only more scientifically. It started out as a casual thing, but eventually it gained enough attention that people were subscribing and commenting, and even requesting new stuff. I enjoy doing it, and people enjoy watching, so I just kept making videos.”

               

Erin nods, and she knows that she would probably never be able to do something like that. “That’s pretty amazing, actually. I’ve read the comments, you’re making a lot of little girls excited about STEM careers.”

               

“I only wish more people would. The world needs more women in science.”

               

They talk for almost three hours, Holtz even brings in her cat, Marie Curie, for Erin to meet, and fall a little bit in love with. Even though the conversation is engaging, and she doesn’t want to sign off, Erin begins to yawn, and she loses focus on what Holtzmann is saying.

               

“You look beat,” Holtz says. “Maybe we should say goodnight and plan for another Skype call next week?”

               

Erin almost wants to argue that she’s fine, but her bed is looking more and more inviting with every passing moment. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. Goodnight Holtzmann.”

               

Holtzmann smiles at her. “Goodnight, sunshine.”


	6. Chapter 6

“We need to talk,” Dr. Gorin says cryptically when Holtzmann steps into work on Monday. The engineer drops her things off at her workspace and slinks into the older woman’s office, already feeling apprehensive. She can tell when Gorin is being light-hearted in her dry kind of way, but there was seriousness in her brown eyes, not a sparkle of amusement.

               

When Holtz arrives in the doorway, Rebecca is seated behind her intimidating desk, glasses resting atop her head and hands clasped on top of her papers, all businesslike. Out of habit, Holtz closes the door behind herself before moving to take the chair opposite of her mentor.

               

“Jillian, can you tell me what’s been going on with you lately? You’ve been unfocussed, and it’s not like you.”

               

Holtzmann fidgets, already painfully aware that Gorin is the only person on the planet who can read her like a picture book. “I’m sorry, boss. I’ve had a little bit of a distraction last week, but I promise I’ll get back in my zone. And, to be fair, it really hasn’t affected the overall progress of the project--”

               

“I’m not worried about the project, I’m worried about _you_. I know you can get a little inside your head, and we haven’t exactly been able to spend time together outside of work, so I’m taking this twenty minutes to check up on you.”

               

“Gee, how nice of you, doc.” Holtzmann smiles, feeling a warmth in her chest that in actuality is quite pathetic, to get mushy over someone caring about your basic wellbeing. “I’m okay, I promise. I actually met someone.”

               

Gorin’s eyebrows raise with intrigue. “You have? So this is about a girl?”

               

Holtz bites he lip, shaking her head. “Not like that. But yeah, she’s great. We’re becoming really good friends.”

               

The older woman nods. “You’ll have to tell me about her when we have more time. How about you come home with me tonight and I’ll cook you a real meal.”

               

Holtzmann lights up at the promise of food. “Yeah, that sounds dynamite.”

               

At quitting time, Holtz hangs back and waits for Dr. Gorin to finish her work for the day. She turns up the radio in the lab when _The_ _Back to Back Queen Hour_ comes on the classic station. She’s grooving to _Don’t Stop Me Now_ when someone clears their voice to get her attention. Instead of stopping, Holtz spins around on her heels and starts dancing towards Dr. Gorin, hips-first. Rebecca smirks slowly, shaking her head.

               

She slowly begins moving towards Holtzmann. _Killer Queen_ comes on next, and they lock eyes while they snap to the song. Eventually, Gorin reaches Holtz at the center of the empty lab, and she takes her hand and twirls her around. They dance together through _Killer Queen_ and _I Want to Break Free_ before they grab their jackets and leave the building together.

               

Dr. Gorin owns a nice two-story home, which looks more like a library on the inside. The entire living room is lined by bookshelves and cozy old furniture, leading into an equally furnished office. Unlike Holtz’s apartment, though, everything is well-organized. They sit in the dining room together once she finishes making spaghetti, and Holtz tells her about Erin between mouthfuls.

               

“She sounds quite remarkable,” Rebecca says, and the lack of sarcasm momentarily shocks Holtzmann. She’s always been critical of the people Holtz hangs out with, and especially the women she dates. She knows that deep down, it’s a testament to how highly Rebecca thinks of her, and how protective she is, but it’s refreshing to have her approval, even if it’s just for an online friend.

               

“I think so too,” Holtz replies. “She’s an ah-mazing physicist.”

               

Dr. Gorin hums thoughtfully. “So you’ve been talking for a couple months now? Have you considered meeting her in person in the future?”

               

Holtzmann bites her lip, stirring her leftover pasta around on her plate. “I don’t know. It’s probably too soon to be planning for that.”

               

“Are you going to Skype with her again soon?”

               

“We’re going to try again on Saturday, hopefully without incident.”

               

“Well, I hope this relationship will work out. It would be good to make a friend who can look after you.”

               

Gorin sends Holtzmann home with leftover spaghetti and a wedge of chocolate cake. She crawls into bed once she gets home, and dreams of brown hair and MIT sweaters all night.

 

* * *

 

               

Erin keeps her promise of keeping Abby informed about Holtzmann, and she tells Patty too when they see each other. Both of them are supportive, but also a little wary of Erin talking to a strange woman from across the country.

               

“Baby, you know I trust you. You’re a big girl, you decide for yourself what you want. I just don’t think that a long distance thing is going to make you very happy, even if it’s just a friendship.”

               

She can kind of see the point Patty’s making. With a relationship that relies entirely on constant communication online, and Erin’s tendency to occasionally isolate herself, a strong friendship could quickly be reduced to nothingness.

               

“I’m being careful, Patty,” Erin assures her as she sips on her tea. Her legs rest across the taller woman’s lap as they sit on her sofa while they watch some talk-show. Abby is working late that night. “We’re going to Skype again on Saturday.”

               

“That’s good to hear,” Patty replies, patting Erin’s shins. “You’re having better luck meeting new people than I am. Hell, I’m almost considering going out with Kevin, even if it only means a free sushi dinner.”

               

“Don’t,” Erin says quickly, scrunching up her nose. “I know that he’s been hitting on you lately, but it isn’t worth it. Trust me.”

               

“That _was_ a pretty bad date you two had, huh?” Patty looks sympathetic, but amused all the same. “I’m just going to keep looking for someone. Maybe I’ll check out the site Abby’s been on lately.”

               

Erin sits up enough to meet Patty’s eyes. “What site?”

               

“I don’t know. True Match maybe? I’ve only seen glances of it up on her laptop, and once on her phone.”

               

The physicist nods slowly. “That’s weird. She hasn’t even mentioned wanting to start dating again, and she only ever had two boyfriends in college.”

               

Patty shrugs. “Maybe you should bring it up, if you’re curious. But if she gets mad, then you didn’t hear it from me.”

               

Once Patty goes home, Erin sits on the couch and hugs her knees. She always tries to stay up for Abby to make sure she gets home safe, since she’s the biggest worry-wort on the planet. Also, the dating site thing is nagging at her. Something like True Match is the furthest from a dating option Abby would consider, so why all of a sudden is she looking?

               

Erin is jerked from her reverie when her friend gets home, tossing her coat up on their second-hand rack and dropping her keys in the dish they keep by the door.

               

“Hey, what are you still doing up?”

               

“Just making sure you got back alright.”

               

“Did you and Patty have fun tonight?”

               

“Yeah, there’s takeout in the fridge for you.”

               

Abby grins at that, dumping her messenger bag on their recliner before she disappears into the kitchen. When she returns a few minutes later, Erin scoots over for her to sit down.

               

“So,” Erin starts, watching her friend for some kind of reaction, “you’ve been on your computer a lot lately.”

               

“I have. My latest research paper needs to be submitted for revisions by the end of the month.”

               

“You’ve been on your phone a lot, too.”

               

“Have I?”

               

“Yes.”

               

“And?”

               

Erin growls in annoyance. “Patty told me she’s seen you on True Match.”

               

Abby loses her nonchalance, choking slightly on a noodle. “Okay, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.” She wipes off her mouth before setting her takeout box and shifting on the couch to face Erin.

               

“What cat?”

               

Abby quickly retrieves her laptop, and types for a few moments before she turns the screen for Erin to see.

               

“I made you a profile,” she confesses. Erin stares at the page, horrified, and takes note of the flattering profile picture, and the fully fleshed-out lists of interests and personal information.

               

“Are you _freaking_ kidding me?!” she shouts, jumping to her feet. “Abby, what made you think that you had the _right_ to do this? This is a _huge_ violation of my privacy!”

               

Abby looks sheepish, setting her laptop down on the coffee table. “Erin, please calm down—“

               

“Calm down?!” Erin is fuming. “ _How_ could you do this?”

               

“I saw that you were open to online relationships, so I thought I’d find some people on here for you to chat with a little, and maybe go out with. I was going to ease you into the idea of it.”

               

Erin rubs her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You know what? I’m tired. We’re going to deal with this tomorrow.” She doesn’t wait for a response before she paces quickly to her bedroom, slamming the door behind herself.

               

After pacing for several minutes, and feeling far too restless to sleep, Erin sits at her desk and her hands absently take her to Skype. The anxiety and dread in her gut are clawing their way up her throat, and she takes a deep breath before hitting the call button.

               

After two failed calls, Holtzmann’s face finally appears, looking disheveled and concerned. She rubs her eye and says, “Is everything okay? Are you okay?”

               

“I just need someone to talk to.”


	7. Chapter 7

This is how Holtzmann got to learn a lot of ugly truths about Erin, all in the span one brief Skype call. Once she explained the situation with Abby, a dam broke, and suddenly a tsunami of pent-up anxiety and frustration and stress from the past couple months came spilling out. By the end of her rant, Erin was teary-eyed and apologizing, and trying to explain herself. She just can’t seem to handle anger like a normal person.

               

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Holtzmann looks like she’s trying her hardest to keep up with this rollercoaster, but only sort-of succeeding.  “Erin, Erin. It’s okay. Take a breath.”

               

Erin does as she’s told, adjusting her laptop from where it’s balanced on her legs. She’s getting ready to start apologizing again, but Holtzmann holds up a finger to silence her.

               

“Erin, listen to me. I’ll admit that this is unfortunate timing, but these sort of things usually are. I’m glad you woke me up, I’m glad that I can be here if you need someone, and I’m going to try my best to say the right things, despite my half-consciousness.” She rubs her eye again and looks as though she’s trying to gather her thoughts. “Okay, here it is:

 

“It’s okay that you’re mad at Abby, she completely overstepped your boundaries. You’ll feel better if you go to sleep and deal with all this from a less emotional place tomorrow. Secondly, it’s also totally okay that you’re stressed and freaked out about a lot of things in your life right now. Anxiety is a real bitch and a half, I know firsthand. All through high school, I thought the world was ending any time I was even slightly inconvenienced. Thirdly, you’re going to be okay. You’re going to take nice deep breaths, and you’re going to take everything one step at a time.”

 

Erin is quiet for a moment, taking in Holtzmann’s words, and the way the blonde woman was looking at her to like she would do whatever it took to make sure she was alright, even if it meant staying up all night.

 

“Thank you, Holtzmann.”

 

“My first name is Jillian, if you prefer that. Just FYI.”

 

“Wow, that’s such a pretty name.” Erin never would’ve guessed it in a million years, but it speaks to the softer, more delicate features of Holtzmann, and it fits her just right somehow.

 

“Thank you. Are you okay now? Think you can go to bed?”

 

“Yes, thanks to you.” Erin brushes her hair from her face and smiles at Holtzmann tiredly. “Sorry again, for keeping you up.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. If you need me, then I’ll be here.”

 

* * *

 

 

Erin takes the advice provided by Holtzmann, and revisits the Abby problem when she’s rested and less angry. Granted, she’s still pissed as all hell.

 

Abby has her laptop reopened and is clicking away when Erin finally comes out of her room. The physicist clears her throat and waits for her friend to look up at her.

 

“Alright. Let’s talk about this,” Erin says sternly, arms folded across her chest and eyes trying to make the computer burst into flame.

 

“Erin, I feel awful. I’m sorry,” Abby says immediately, looking genuinely guilt-stricken and a little sleep deprived. “Can I please explain my reasoning?” She pats the spot beside her, looking hopeful. A bit reluctantly, the brunette joins her.

 

“I know how lonely you’ve been, and I know how stubborn you are when it comes to these things, so I decided to give you a push. With this profile, you can see who you match with, talk to whichever ones look good online without having to even speak face-to-face, and then you can choose some to actually go out with.” Abby tilts the screen for Erin to see. “And you could always choose to delete it, it’s all up to you. I just wanted to get you out there. Anyone would be lucky to have you, they just need to _see_ you.”

 

Erin nods slowly, pulling the laptop closer while she scrutinized her profile. After a moment, she turns to Abby. “I’m still definitely not happy that you did this without my permission, but I understand that you did this out of concern and love. Even if it was really invasive and wrong.”

 

“I deserve that.”

 

“Maybe I _could_ use something like this, though.” Erin says in one exhale. “It’s been a long time since Kevin. I’m over him, I should move on.”

 

Abby looks surprised. “As long as you take it at your own pace, Er. Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable just because you think it’s what someone else wants.”

 

“I won’t. Promise.” Erin scrolls down through her already impressive list of matches. “How long has this page been up?”

 

“Only three days now. You’re quite a catch.” Abby nudges her with her elbow, smiling. “So are we alright?”

 

“We’re fine.” Erin smiles and pats Abby’s hand. “Just don’t do this ever again.”

 

“Deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Erin starts watching Holtz’s videos as they come out every Thursday. This week is a special video, as she’s been promising a Q & A for the last few weeks. She goes through all the questions people have sent via Twitter, things Erin is proud to say she already knows.

 

“Let’s see, @StephanieGrace on Twitter says ‘ _I’m going to go for broke here. It’s been driving me nuts, and I know I’m not the only one who’s been wondering, but are you gay?_ ’ Ah, yes. People have been commenting this on every one of my videos for the past year. For the record, so that everyone can settle down and focus on the science, yes. I’m gay.”

 

Erin would be lying if she said this came as a surprise. Holtzmann was pretty flamboyantly gay, and often spoke of how pretty she thought girls were, nothing substantial, just little comments in passing. The nosy curiosity in her was satisfied with the confirmation, regardless.

 

“@ChaseTheHypeman on Twitter asks ‘ _any hobbies?_ ’ Well, outside of the lab, I am currently learning acoustic guitar. I was also on a roller derby team for three years, but I had to quit when I moved for work purposes. I do a lot home improvement projects that I _usually_ finish, I’m halfway fluent in German, I taught myself how to crochet, and sometimes I paint, even though I’m not any good. I also have a cat, but I don’t know if that counts. Probably not.”

 

The rest of the video is comprised of various questions about Holtzmann’s work and her opinions on various topics, like video games, seasonal weather, and chocolate versus vanilla. Erin makes sure to give it a thumbs up when she’s done watching.

 

Now that she is the owner of her very own online dating profile, Erin decided to also sign up on YouTube, with the intention to only subscribe to Holtz’s channel. She has no videos of her own, but her interest is piqued, and the idea has its own strange temptation. After perusing other popular channels, she subscribes to a few and calls it a day. A new tab opens, and True Match pops up.

 

Erin has gone through the backlog of potential dates, narrowed it down to a more plausible list of people who could be good matches. One man in particular caught her attention, but it’s been two days already and she still has yet to contact him. After staring at his profile for a while longer, Erin types up a formal message, hoping to make a good impression:

 

_Hello, Phil. We seem to have a lot in common, so would you like to chat sometime? I’ll be in touch._

 

Sadly, this is by far one of the best attempts she’s made at getting back into the dating game. She’d asked Kevin out awkwardly about half a dozen times before he couldn’t stand it anymore and had finally given in. A quiet chime brings Erin’s attention back to her computer screen.

 

_Hello, Erin. I’ve been hoping you’d contact me. I’d like it very much if I could get to know you._


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> somewhat boring relationship building

Fast forward to two weeks later. Erin and Phil have been chatting every day, almost as much as she talks to Jillian. They finally get around to the next step, which is to go on an actual, physical date. Phil suggests a restaurant that Erin loves, and she’s even more confident that this is a sound emotional investment, and perhaps he’s as good for her as True Match seems to think.

               

When she’s out with Patty and Abby later that night, they flank her on either side as they sit at the bar and interrogate her about her possible romance. Eventually, they drag it out of her.

               

“We’re going out to dinner next week. Please don’t make it a big deal.”

               

Patty and Abby proceed to make it very much a big deal. They refuse to shut up about it for the rest of the night, and take her out shopping the next day for something nice to wear.

               

“I don’t want to blow this out of proportion,” Erin says as Patty holds a cocktail dress up to her. “It’s just a dinner, and then we’re both going to our separate homes. No dramatic kiss scenes in the rain, no montage of us painting the town red, no impromptu wedding.”

               

“You don’t know that,” Abby teases, unfolding a blouse to inspect. “What if you two really hit it off, and maybe go have fun that you didn’t plan for? I know that isn’t your bag, but it might be good for you to be spontaneous.”

               

Erin frowns, looking down at a neatly folded pile of black slacks. “We’ll see.”

               

“You should wear blue, it’ll bring out your eyes,” Patty says.

 

"This is going to be good for you, Er." Abby promises, handing her two shirts and a black pencil skirt.

 

* * *

 

 

Erin hasn’t told Holtzmann about the date, and has scarcely even mentioned Phil. She doesn’t know why, but somehow she’s worried about how the engineer will react. During their next Skype chat, she decides to bring it up.

               

“I’m going on a date this Friday,” she confesses when there’s a lull in their conversation.

               

Holtzmann looks thrown off by this news for all of two seconds before an amused smile crosses her face. “Ooh, is it with the Phil guy?” She leans forward in intrigue.

               

“Yeah. We’ve been talking and agreed it’s time we meet in person. So we’re going to have dinner at Maggie’s.”

               

“Isn’t that the fancy place with the lasagna?”

               

Erin honestly didn’t know how Holtzmann always seems to remember every little factoid she tells her. Sometimes they’d be talking, and Jillian would mention that “oh yeah, your favorite color is purple?” or “You’re allergic to strawberries, right?”

               

“Yeah, that’s the place.”

               

“Are you excited?”

               

“Nervous.”

 

Holtz only smiles wider. “Well, don’t be. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”

 

* * *

 

 

The restaurant is beyond packed when Erin gets there. She tries to look into the main dining area from where she stands by the hostess desk. Just after the discomfort starts to prickle under her skin, Erin locks eyes with Phil, who’s just stood up to wave her over. When she gets there, Erin can finally take in her date. He’s tall, and his face is handsomer than the profile picture had led her to believe. He smiles and kisses her cheek before they sit down across from each other.

               

“Wow, you look great.” Phil grins at her. “I’m really glad we were able to do this.”

               

Erin returns the smile, head still buzzing slightly from the kiss. “Me too.”

               

To her surprise, they carry on quite well. The silences are comfortable, and he doesn’t seem the least bit off-put by Erin’s occasional awkward rambles, or her lack of eye contact at times. The small-talk isn’t forced.

               

Dinner turns into a movie, and another goodnight kiss when he walks her to the apartment complex. She’s smiling when she walks through the door, and Abby nearly launches herself off the couch to start asking questions. They spend over an hour laying on her bed, discussing the date like they're still college sophomores, giggling at the handful of numbers Abby got at the first party they'd ever been to. It was refreshing, to feel so hopeful about the future. Even if this was just one aspect of it.

 

“He asked to see me again next week for lunch,” Erin says, smiling softly.

               

Abby squeezes her hand. “I’m really happy for you, Er.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Erin decided that it was time to introduce Holtzmann to Patty and Abby. She really cared about the engineer, but she knew she had to have her friends’ approval if Holtzmann was really going to be a long-term part of her life. They both seemed eager to meet her, and the sentiment was shared by Holtzmann when Erin asked about it. They planned to have a Skype call on Friday night.

               

That evening, Erin nervously texted Holtzmann while her friends set up Abby’s laptop, which was the nicest of the three, on the coffee table.

               

_Holtzmann: Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll love me ;-)_

_Erin: I know, I’ve just never been good with these things._

_Holtzmann: It’s just me, no big deal_

_Erin: It’s you, and that’s WHY it’s a big deal._

Patty announces that the computer is officially ready for business, and Skype is open and waiting. The three of them crowd onto the couch together, with Erin in the middle. They scoot the laptop closer on the coffee table while the video call goes through. Finally, Holtzmann appears onscreen, smiling and sitting cross-legged on the floor of her living room, from what Erin can tell.

               

She grins and adjusts her glasses, eyes darting between Patty and Abby. “Well, hello ladies,” she remarks. “Nice to finally see you.”

               

Abby studies her for a moment. “Is that an X-Files shirt?”

               

That was it, the ice was as good as broken. Erin feels a sigh of relief escape her as Abby launches into an all-out rant about everything there is to possibly debate about the show, including trivia that virtually no human being should know. Holtzmann, who loves X-Files, but certainly not as much as Abby, keeps up relatively well, looking thoroughly amused all the while. Patty throws in her own opinions, and occasionally tries to reign Abby in, but Holtzmann just laughs and mentions that things sure are heating up in this controversial discussion.

               

Surprisingly, amazingly, _blessedly_ , the four of them get along as if they’d known each other for years. Holtzmann’s easy going personality balances Abby’s aggressive brand of enthusiasm, while Patty acts oftentimes as the voice of reason, and Erin tries to help steer them back to whatever the original topic at hand was. By the end of the night, and into the wee hours of the morning, Erin is wiping tears out of the corners of her eyes and basking in the good company. She can’t even remember why she was worried in the first place.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Phil picks Erin up from work one afternoon so that they can have lunch together. He only gets a glimpse of the lab, mostly because Erin is pushing him out the door for fear that Abby will get ahold of him. They walk a few blocks to a café and discuss their weeks. Erin brings up Holtzmann, briefly, but decides to be vague about her friends for the most part.

               

“So, Abby is the one who set you up on True Match?”

               

“Yeah, and I’ll admit that at first I was going to delete it, but then Abby actually explained herself and I gave it a chance.”

               

Phil smiles. “Well, tell her I said thank you for bringing you into my life. There’s just something about you, Erin. I feel like we’ve got potential.”

               

“I feel the same way,” Erin replies, trying to suppress the giddiness in her voice.

               

When they get back to the lab, Patty is also there, leaning on Abby’s desk. They both look up in time to catch Phil kissing Erin’s cheek in the doorway, and wave at him with twin smirks.

               

“Bye ladies,” he says, returning the wave before disappearing down the hallway.

               

“I take it that you had a good lunch?” Abby asks from her desk, too buried under miscellaneous papers to properly stand up and walk over to where Erin is.

               

“You didn’t tell me he was that fine,” Patty remarks, raising both her eyebrows. “Because that’s one good looking dude. Hell, maybe I really should set up a profile on there.”

               

Erin sighs, her face growing warm with embarrassment. “Can you two give me a second to take off my jacket and sit down before you bombard me?”

               

Abby looks at her phone. “Holtzmann wants to know how you two are doing, too. She just told me to tell you to text her.”

               

Erin feels happy, knowing that slowly but surely, the four of them were uniting into a tightly-knit group. She wasn’t the least bit threatened by Patty or Abby’s growing relationship with Holtzmann. Sure, each dynamic was uniquely their own, but it took nothing away from her’s.

               

“I’ll text her after work,” she responds quickly as she sheds her coat, wanting to get back to her whiteboard. Abby nods, and goes back to her phone to relay the message. Patty stays for a few more minutes before she heads back to the history building for her 2:00 PM lecture. Even as her hand moved the dry erase marker across the board, Erin’s mind wanders to warm brown eyes and a charming smile.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Jillian looks forward to Fridays more than she’d like to admit. Even though the lab is her favorite brand of hectic and crazy, there’s something about coming home after a long week and talking to Erin until she can hardly keep her eyes open that has her bouncing in the backseat during the cab-ride home. The physicist is endlessly fascinating, and amusing, both purposely and unintentionally. They understood each other so well at this point that they could sit in silence, or even open their web browsers and write emails, simply enjoying being in each other’s company. Sometimes they streamed movies, and made stupid, sarcastic jokes about the cheesy plot, or the faulty science. One time, after an especially late movie, Holtz realized that Erin had fallen asleep, and her heart still melted at the thought of her, slumped halfway over on her bedroom floor, hair draping over her bowed head.

               

There was a hitch. Erin was seeing the Phil guy quite frequently these days, which should be no big deal. For one thing, he treated Erin well, and their time together didn’t detract at all from the time she spent with Holtzmann. For another, Erin was allowed to date whoever she wanted. What _was_ the problem, was that Jillian was almost positive that she had a thing for Erin.

               

When Gorin invites her over on Wednesday night, the engineer flings herself onto the couch and turns on the radio while the older woman goes into the kitchen to put a kettle on.

               

“Jillian, what are you doing?”

               

Holtzmann has positioned herself so that her legs and feet rest up against the back of the couch, and her upper body dangles upside-down off the cushions.

               

“Suffering,” she replies, reaching over to turn up the volume.

               

“I know that, you only listen to David Bowie when you’re moping around. I’m asking why you think your filthy boots belong up on my leather upholstery.”

               

“Sorry,” Holtzmann mutters as she reluctantly flips herself into an appropriate sitting position. “I’m having a bit of a conundrum.”

               

“What about?” Gorin asks encouragingly, taking a seat in the recliner adjacent to the sofa. Holtzmann thinks, not for the first time, that had Rebecca not been such a brilliant engineer, she likely would be a therapist.

               

“I’ve developed a crush on my quite-probably-straight friend, Erin,” she admits in a huff, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

               

“That _is_ a conundrum,” Gorin agrees, looking thoughtful. “What makes you so sure that she’s straight?”

               

“Well, she’s dating a guy, for one thing, and sometimes she mentions this other guy that she was also into. So, at most she’s bi? If there's anything I've learned by being a lesbian, it's that the number of women I wish were gay is always exponentially greater than the amount who are, so, like the majority of my past crushes, it's statistically unlikely. Also, is it bad of me to want her to stop seeing him? I only want her to be happy, and if—“

               

“Jillian, you’re rambling. I know you get chatty when you’re nervous about something, but just take a moment to hear me out, okay?” Holtzmann nods.

               

“My advice to you, if you truly want her to be happy, is to wait. And I don’t mean that you should bottle it all up, because that’s grossly unhealthy and you’ve already got enough bad habits when it comes to these things as is. This is a new relationship for her, and this is a new realization for you. Wait for both to develop, see if your feelings are really something worth discussing, and if her relationship really amounts to anything. You won’t do either of you any good by simply putting it out in the open that you have feelings for her. Use your best judgement, and wait for a more appropriate time to bring this up.”

               

Holtzmann nods slowly. “That makes sense.”

               

“Be patient. You don’t need to rush into anything. Feel things out and come to a decision in your own time, and things will work out. Eventually, there will be a time and place when the two of you can talk about this, it just probably won’t be for a while.”

               

“Thanks, doc.”

               

“Don’t mention it,” Gorin replies as the kettle whistles. She gets up and makes her way back towards the kitchen, but turns over her shoulder as she walks. “Turn it up, I love _Starman_.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

Weeks passed uneventfully. Erin and Phil continued to see each other often, and on some Fridays Patty comes over so that they can all visit with Holtzmann via Skype. Lately, Erin’s been wondering if her life has ever been so put-together, but then she reminds herself that she shouldn’t jinx her good fortune.

               

One afternoon, she’s digging through her desk drawer for a new marker when her phone buzzes from within her bag. Since she’s already nearby, Erin goes ahead and checks her messages.

               

_Holtzmann: Important question so pls answer ASAP: when do you plan on taking time off for a vacation, if at all?_

Erin’s brows draw together in confusion.

               

_Erin: I was considering maybe a week in June, why?_

_Holtzmann: I’m talking with Dr. Gorin about my vacation. Would it be crazy of me to ask if I can come stay with you for a few days?_

_Erin: You want to fly here for your vacation?_

_Holtzmann: I would, if that’s something you’d like to do?_

_Erin: Yes! Of course you can come stay with me. I’ll talk to my boss about specific days and I’ll get back to you by the end of the week, okay?_

_Holtzmann: Awesome! Thank you, I’ll let you get back to your thing_

Erin feels jittery for the rest of the day, mind buzzing with both excitement and worry as the mental checklist began to form. She’d need to tell Abby after work, first of all, and then they’d have to figure out where Holtz would sleep, and how and when she’d get to the airport to meet the engineer. Then there was the need for entertainment ideas, what to visit, where to eat.

               

Abby lights up at the news, completely sold on the idea of Holtzmann sleeping on their couch for a week. Erin submits her request for a week in June, and informs Holtz that the dates are tentative but likely, considering she never takes a day off unless an illness is literally, physically preventing her from getting out of bed. Holtzmann replies in the affirmative, explaining that Gorin will probably give her any days she wants as long as she promises stay away from the lab the entire time.

 

* * *

 

 

Holtzmann paces around in her small office space, a nervous mess as usual. She’s definitely glad that she proposed the big meetup, but now she was dealing with the very real prospect of being in the same physical location as Erin, to be close enough to smell her shampoo, to see the inside of her apartment, to maybe, possibly, hug her.

               

In other news, and not totally unrelated, Holtzmann’s feelings for Erin hadn’t diminished. In fact, quite the opposite was true: the past months had only fostered a deeper affection, one that was currently driving her up the wall at the mere thought of being near the physicist.

               

Dr. Gorin was, as predicted, more than happy to give Holtzmann the week off, considering it didn’t interfere with any deadlines. The blonde promised to work twice as hard anyway, to make sure that everything would be ahead of schedule when she was due to leave. Gorin only allowed it because it was for Holtz’s peace of mind more than anything else. The last thing she wanted was to think about work while she was trying to memorize Erin’s face up close. God, this was bad. She runs a hand through her messy curls before finally dumping herself into her lumpy old desk chair. Spinning slightly, Holtzmann flips her cat calendar open to June, and marks the days with little stars in acrylic silver sharpie.

 

* * *

 

 

After work, Erin meets Phil at a restaurant for dinner. They greet each other with a kiss before they sit down. He takes notice of her bouncing leg under the table.

               

“Er, you alright there?” He looks both concerned and amused.

               

“I’m just excited,” she confesses with a breathy laugh, smoothing out her skirt. “Holtzmann is coming to visit during my vacation in June.”

               

Phil’s light-hearted expression falls away. “So, you mean that's what you’ll be doing the whole week?”

               

“Well, theoretically, she’ll fly in on Tuesday, and leave on Saturday. So that leaves Saturday, Sunday, Monday at the beginning of the week, and Sunday of the next week for us to see each other. Or you could come over one evening while she’s in town, and we could all eat dinner together?”

               

“I really wish you would’ve told me sooner, Erin. I thought we might be able to get out of town together, have the week to ourselves.”

               

Erin suddenly feels a cold prick of guilt in her chest. “Oh. I’m sorry. You’re right, I should’ve let you know to see if you had anything planned.” She shifts in her chair. “I’m really glad though, that I can finally meet Holtzmann face to face.”

               

Phil looks further off-put by what she says, but simply shakes his head and says nothing. They eat dinner in mostly silence until Erin can no longer stand it.

               

“If you’re mad, can you please just tell me?” She loathes this thinly-veiled passive-aggression, it’s always been her mother’s particular brand of anger. She’d much rather take the brunt of Abby’s straightforward rage, at least she left no uncertainty.

               

“I’m not mad. I’m frustrated.” Phil grits it out like there’s a bad taste in his mouth.

               

“I already apologized—“

               

“It’s not just the not telling me that you’d be busy,” he cuts in, “It’s that Holtzmann woman in general.”

               

“What are you talking about?”

               

“Your relationship with her is _weird,_ Erin. You mention her _at least_ once every single time we go out, and we can’t ever have date nights on Fridays because that’s when you Skype with her. And now, I dunno, she’s flying all the way across the country for a _‘friend’_ \--”

               

“Why are you saying it like _that_? She _is_ my friend.” Erin is frowning, suddenly defensive.

               

“It seems a little weird that this woman would fly all the way from California just to see a _friend_. I mean, even the way the two of you met is weird. It sounds a lot like the way _we_ met, doesn’t it?”

               

Erin is confused and irritated, trying desperately to understand what the hell is going through Phil’s mind right now. “What are you insinuating? That she’s my lesbian lover?”

               

“You tell me,” Phil replies just a little childishly.

               

She wants to laugh, both at the sheer absurdity of this argument, and in genuine amusement. “Are you _kidding_? Like I would literally tell you all about her, tell you when she’ll be visiting me, _and_ invite you to meet her and eat with us?”

               

Phil seems to suddenly hear how paranoid and ridiculous this is, because then he’s crossing his arms and fighting back laughter to keep up the serious façade. “It’s…the perfect cover…” he manages, before finally losing his composure to a fit of chuckles. “I’m sorry Erin, I guess work is just getting to me. I need to get some sleep.” He shakes his head, sighing tiredly.

               

Erin smiles gently, and reaches across the table to take his hand. “It’s okay. Just try to take it easy, and think about something fun we can do together for the first part of my vacation?” He nods, and they manage to finish dinner without another argument.

                 

Erin comes home that night still feeling more than a little unsettled by what Phil had pointed out. Did she really mention Holtzmann that often? Was it really so outrageous that a friend would travel from the complete opposite side of the United States to come visit another friend? Holtzmann is just a really important person in her life, that’s all. She’s like family, maybe a sister. Surely, that was all.

 

Wasn’t it?


	11. Chapter 11

“Abby, I need to tell you something.”

               

“What’s up?”

               

Holtzmann shifts uncomfortably, as if her friend is actually there in the room with her. She switches the phone to her less-sweaty hand.

               

“I need you to swear to secrecy, okay? Don’t tell anyone else.”

               

“What are you talking about? Just tell me,” Abby replies, slightly exasperated.

               

“Here goes,” Holtz says, so quietly she’s pretty sure Abby doesn’t catch it. “So, you know Erin, right?”

               

“I know of her,” Abby says, sounding amused at the engineer’s nervousness.

               

Holtz sighs at her own phrasing, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “I mean, of _course_ you do, but I just mean that this is what this is about. Erin.”

               

“What about Erin? Oh god, please don’t tell me you can’t make it. She’d be crushed.”

               

“No, no. Of course I can. I bought my plane ticket two weeks ago. It’s kind of a personal problem _concerning_ Erin. But I can’t tell her, for obvious reasons that I will now share with you.”

               

“So then spit it out.”

               

“Okay…so, I think I’m in love with her?”

               

There’s a long silence from Abby’s end, so much so that Holtzmann thinks that the call was dropped.

               

“Abby…?”

               

“I’m sorry, can you run that by me one more time?”

               

“I said I think I’m in love with her.”

               

“ _Erin_?”

               

“Yes.”

               

Holtzmann can almost visualize Abby nodding slowly, trying to process the news. Except she can’t tell what kind of expression she’s wearing, and it only adds to the growing suspense.

               

“I’m sorry, Holtz. I’m really sorry,” Abby says finally.

               

“What are you talking about?”

               

“When Erin first started talking to you, I didn’t trust you. And with the way she was getting all mushy at the mere mention of your name, I decided to make her a profile on True Match so that she could meet someone else.”

               

Then it’s turn for Holtzmann to be quiet. “It’s not your fault, Abby. You were protecting her because I was just a faceless name back then. And besides, I didn’t even realize it myself until a couple month ago.”

               

“I feel bad, though. I feel like I keep messing things up—“

               

“Abby, it’s alright, I promise. You haven’t messed anything up. Erin is happy, and I’m okay.”

               

Another pause. “So, what’s your plan?”

               

“What plan?”

               

“Well, I was assuming those little gears in your head have been spinning ever since you found out about Phil. How are you planning on winning Erin over?”

               

“I’m not planning on doing anything. I just wanted to tell you before I visit.”

               

“Oh. Well, thank you for trusting me with this. I’ll let you know if there’s trouble in paradise, if you want.”

               

“Much obliged.”

 

* * *

 

 

The week of June 5th was coming up fast. Erin had already gone to _Bed, Bath and Beyond_ to buy brand-new sheets and pillows for the sofa, anything to make it less unpleasant for Holtzmann to sleep on. She also cleans the entire apartment, top to bottom, because sweeping, dusting, and vacuuming distracted her from the growing anxiety in the pit her stomach, the cold prickling sensation in her hands when they weren’t busy with something. Abby looked at her concernedly from her perch on the recliner, an island floating amidst the sea of cleaning products, safely out of Erin’s war path.

               

“You alright there?”

               

Erin doesn’t look up, either because she’s lost in her own head, or because she’s purposely trying to ignore her. She pushes a side table away from its usual spot and scrubs at the dust and dirt that had built up underneath it.

               

“ _Erin_ ,” Abby says, a little louder, snapping her fingers to help get her attention.

               

Finally, after Abby had started snapping with both hands, Erin looks up. “What?”

               

“It’s still a little less than two weeks before Holtz gets here. Why have you been cleaning like her majesty the queen will be stopping in for tea?”

               

Erin hates how perceptive Abby is sometimes, the way she knows the answer before she asks.

               

“I just want it to look clean. This is the first time she’s visiting, and I don’t want her to think we’re slobs,” she says, even though it’s an obvious excuse.

               

“Erin, do you really think _Holtzmann_ of all people is going think this place is dirty? We’re talking about a woman who once ran completely out of clean laundry, so she wrapped a scarf around her torso and wore it as a shirt. Besides, she’ll be too busy making googly eyes at you to care.” Abby pauses to rethink her phrasing, but Erin doesn’t seem to have noticed the obvious insinuation of Holtzmann’s crush on her. She’s too busy spraying their curtains with Febreze. “Is there something else going on?”

               

Erin, with her back facing Abby, continues to spray the air freshener around. “Do you think Phil and I make a good couple?”

               

Abby sits up more with interest. “From what I’ve seen of him, yeah, of course. Why?”

               

“I’ve been having…doubts, lately.”

               

“What do you mean?”

               

“Well…” She sets down the bottle and looks over at Abby. “We only see each other twice a week, and he stays so late at work lately that I can’t call him at night anymore. And he has this habit of starting arguments over things that aren’t a big deal. But he’s so smart, and funny, and he has a really good job. Am I just being ridiculous?”

               

“What kinds of arguments?”

               

“Well, last month he freaked out about Holtzmann coming to visit. He called our relationship weird. But, I mean, he realized how ridiculous it was and apologized?”

               

“My advice to you is to talk to him about it. Every relationship reaches the point where the honeymoon is over, and it’s time to start addressing the problems. It might even require a small fight. But that’s really the only way the two of you can move past it without things getting worse.”

                Erin sighs. “You’re right…”

                “You’re having dinner at his place tonight, right? Bring it up to him. If he’s worth a damn, he’ll hear you out and try to fix his behavior.”

               

Erin does as she’s told. That night, she puts on a nice outfit and takes a cab to Phil’s apartment. He admits that he made something, but burned it beyond redemption, so they eat Thai takeout in his small dining area. Before Phil can propose a movie for them to watch, Erin seizes the opportunity to speak up.

               

“I want to talk about something, just real quick,” she says, trying to keep her voice level. Confrontation of any kind makes her nauseous, but she knows she has to do it.

               

“Sure, what’s up?”

               

Erin brings up the fact that they haven’t been able to spend as much time together, and that their little arguments are becoming more and more frequent. “And, um, one other thing. You have something against Holtzmann. Ever since I told you that she’s coming to visit, you’ve been dismissive or ignore me if I even mention her name. She’s my friend, though, and she’s going to be a part of my life. I’m not asking you to like her, I’m asking you to respect my choice to have her as a friend, and treat her civilly.”

               

“So,” Phil starts, leaning back in his chair, “If I had a female best friend, and I prioritized her over you in any way, and I spent the majority of my free time with her instead of you, you’d be okay with that?”

               

“Are you _that_ threatened by her, or do you just not trust _me_?” Erin fires back, face growing warm with anger.

               

“I’m entitled to voice my concerns too, Erin. Don’t accuse me of things just because you don’t like what you hear. Don’t you think it’d be kind of a double standard if our roles were flipped, and you were mad at me for being with another girl?”

               

“Yes it would, but it would never happen, because I would trust you enough to know that there’s nothing going on between you.”

               

“Really? So what if I told you that the nights I’ve been ‘ _busy_ ’, were actually spent hanging out with my secretary?”

               

“That would be _completely_ different, Phil. Do you even know how _crazy_ you sound right now?”

               

“Not as crazy as _you_ , apparently. While we’re at it, why not bring up the fact that you didn’t tell me you’re on meds?”

               

“You went through my medicine cabinet?” Erin’s voice rises in pitch and volume in her outrage. “You’re right, you got me, Phil. I’m completely bat-shit crazy because I take fucking _anti-depressants_!”

               

“That doesn’t change the fact that you never told me. When were you planning to tell me?”

               

“I don’t know! It’s an _extremely personal_ detail of my life, Phil! I don’t owe it to you to tell you about it until _I’m_ ready!”

               

“Aren’t I important enough to know by now? Jesus, Erin, we’ve already slept together and you’ve kept that from me.”

               

Erin feels sick, but the anger keeps her from running out of the apartment. “My depression is something I’ve struggled with since I was a little girl, Phil. Literally the only people who know about it are the people who’ve seen me break down in front of them, when I absolutely could no longer hide it from them. I’ve actually been so happy lately that I thought it wouldn’t even be relevant.” Guess that run of happiness is out the window.        

               

Phil sits there, quietly nodding his head while Erin can see the anger rising up and twisting his face into a scowl. “I bet you told Holtzmann about it, then.”

               

“What is it about Holtzmann that makes you _so_ insecure? Is it because she’s a lesbian?” Erin is back to yelling, because she’s so goddamn frustrated that there’s no way for her to keep calm.

               

Phil stands up, too, and matches her volume. “It’s because of what it says on your profile, Erin!”

               

“What are you talking about—“

               

“The little sexuality box, it says bisexual, I’m not fucking blind!”

            

Erin stares at him, long and hard, before she can even find the words to describe what she was feeling. “So what you’re saying, is that I’m untrustworthy, because I’m bisexual.” The calm words hide a storm of rage that she’s ready to unleash on him.

               

“I don’t know, Erin, that’s why I asked you if you’d like me hanging out with other girls. Because you just happen to be bi, and you just happen to be best friends with a lesbian—“

               

“Goodbye, Phil.”

               

“What? Where are you—“

               

“Home.” Is all Erin says, before grabbing her purse and walking out of the apartment with a slammed door behind her. She walks all the way home, even though several cabs pass her on the street. If anyone wants to mug her, they change their minds when they see the near-murderous look on her face. When she gets to the apartment, fully prepared to repeat the entire fight to Abby, she finds that her friend has already gone to sleep. Without an outlet for her rage, Erin takes a shower and also slips under her sheets. She doesn’t sleep.

               

Erin is miserable and exhausted the next morning, so much so that she fakes a cold to get out of work for the day. Abby promises to return home as soon as possible to check up on her, and bring her soup, before she leaves the physicist alone. Erin doesn’t get out of bed until four in the afternoon, and then she drags herself to the living room to watch Animal Planet. Abby makes good on her promise, and at 7:30 she arrives home carrying a brown paper sack with two different kinds of soup inside.

               

“Feeling any better?”

               

Erin grunts.

               

“Well, maybe it’ll cheer you up if you hear the exciting news your best friend just received today?” she asks, handing Erin a bowl of tomato basil.

               

Erin perks up at this, pushing herself upright. “What news?”

               

“Okay, don’t freak out, but a university in England wants me to contribute to their current astrophysics research this summer.”

               

Erin can’t even bring herself to freak out. She doesn’t feel anything. “Oh my god,” she hears herself say, “That’s _amazing_ Abby!” She mentally congratulates herself for sounding so convincingly excited.

               

“I know! Don’t worry though, I’m not leaving until the 12th, so I’ll be able to see Holtzmann, and hang out with you guys before I’m due to leave.” Abby looks so excited and happy that Erin doesn’t even consider telling her that her departure would be an enormous loss, and that there’s a decent chance she’d lose it without her. So instead she just smiles, and assures her that she’s feeling good enough to go out to dinner with Patty tomorrow night.

               

It’s two in the morning when everything hits Erin at once. It’s just too much. She sits up in her bed, shaking, and gropes around in the dark until her fingers brush across her phone.

                _Erin: Can I Skype you? I’m sorry._

 

_Holtzmann: One sec_

_Holtzmann: Okay, yeah. I’m ready to go_

 

Erin climbs out of bed just long enough to turn on the lights and grab her laptop off the desk. She sits cross-legged on top of her comforter, and opens Skype.

               

As soon as Holtzmann comes into view, wearing her same old Ninja Turtle pajamas, her hair messily pulled back, familiar blue eyes filled with worry, Erin bursts into tears. Ugly sobs and full-body shudders, the whole package deal. The more she tries to cover her face, wipe the snot that dripping onto her lip, hold back the pathetic whimpers, it only gets worse. Holtzmann looks panicked, from what Erin can make out in her blurry field of vision, but after a moment of not knowing what to do, she just sits patiently, and waits.

               

Eventually, Erin thinks she’s calmed down enough to explain herself, but the mere thought of Phil’s ugly words, and of Abby leaving her just makes her cry harder all over again. After a few of Erin’s failed attempts, Holtzmann gets up wordlessly and disappears from view. Erin is almost ready to panic more, but she can hear the sound of Holtzmann rummaging through something off-camera. After several minutes of suspense, the engineer returns with an acoustic guitar. She lays it across her lap before moving to adjust the web cam.

               

“Want to hear a song?” is what she says, rather than trying to coax Erin into giving her an explanation for this late-night video call. Erin is so taken aback by the sudden appearance of a guitar, and still incapable of speaking, so she nods her head.

               

Holtzmann’s fingers begin strumming out a tune that Erin vaguely recognizes, but it’s not until the lyrics pass through her surprisingly incredible voice, that Erin realizes [it’s a song by _Foster The People_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UbEVzpdOlVg). The acoustic arrangement of it is pleasant to hear, and focusing on the lyrics helps Erin slowly return her breathing to normal, by the bridge of the song, the sobs have died down, and the tears are trickling to a stop as well.

 

                _“And every day that you want to waste, that you want to waste, you can_

 

_And every day that you want to wake up, and you want to wake, you can_

 

_And every day that you want to change, that you want to change, yeah_

 

_I'll help you see it through 'cause I just really want to be with you”_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one everybody's been waiting for

Holtzmann played a whole track-list of all the songs she had taught herself, which wasn’t too many, but it was impressive to Erin all the same. A lot of them were songs she didn’t know, but the last one was _Somewhere Over the Rainbow,_ which made her want to cry for an entirely new reason.

               

“Holtz…you’re so good,” she manages to say, her voice gravely.  “You have a really beautiful voice.”

               

Holtzmann blushes slightly, looking sheepish. “Thank you. It’s a hobby…” She moves to set her guitar down, somewhere off-camera. “Do you feel any better?”

               

“A little…” Erin nods, wiping at her reddened eyes with the sleeve of her pajama shirt. “Thank you.”

               

“Don’t worry about it. Like I’ve said many times, I’ll do anything I can to make you happy.”

               

Erin feels a squeeze in her chest at the words, and stares at Holtzmann for several moments before looking away. “Can I explain everything to you tomorrow? I’m really tired…”

               

“Of course. Good night, sunshine.”

               

“Good night.”

               

The next day, after Erin sleeps in, she calls Holtz on the phone and tells her about Phil, and then about Abby. Holtzmann is quiet for a long while after Erin is finished.

               

“I kind of assumed it was the Abby thing, since she’d told me earlier that day. But the thing with Phil…I’m really sorry to hear that, Erin. You two were together for quite a while.”

               

Erin nods. “Almost six months.” She pauses, wanting to change the subject. “Do you realize it’s almost been a full year since we met though?”

               

The tension suddenly disappears from Holtzmann’s voice. “Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess.”

               

She feels a smile pull at her lips, despite how exhausted she still feels. “It’s really okay, though. I think I’ll be alright. I just need time.”

               

“Take all the time you need, but you should probably tell Abby and Patty what happened so they can properly comfort you. There’s only so much I can do from California.”

               

“I’ll tell them tonight, and then by the time I’m done moping around, you’ll be here.”

               

“Can’t wait.”

               

“Me either.”

 

* * *

 

               

Erin tells Abby and Patty that evening, before they go out. It takes about ten minutes to convince Abby not to go over to Phil’s apartment and vandalize his car, and Patty was only half-heartedly dissuading her.

               

“Don’t worry about paying tonight, baby, we got you covered,” Patty assures her. “We’re going to have fun tonight, okay?”

               

They spend the night making sure that Erin is having a good time, going from a nice restaurant to a bookstore, to a karaoke bar, to a late movie. She feels guilty that she’s taking the focus away from Abby, but she assures Erin that there’s still plenty of time for her to have a going away party, and that Erin’s mental wellbeing is far more important right now. She can’t imagine how she ended up with such great friends, and yet she finds herself falling asleep on Patty’s couch at the end of the night, leaning against Abby’s shoulder, and feeling safe. She sleeps through the night for the first time since the fight with Phil.

 

 

* * *

 

               

The days leading up to Erin’s vacation are better. She focuses as best she can on her current research, using it as her escape from her thoughts of Phil, and of being completely alone in the apartment until the end of September. June 6th sneaks up on her, despite the extensive preparations for Holtzmann’s arrival. Erin wakes up an hour before her 6:00 AM alarm, and agonizes over her choice of clothing. She ends up applying three coats of deodorant, because she’s a nervous sweater.

               

Holtzmann’s flight doesn’t land until noon, but Erin is at the airport by 10 o’clock sharp. Kevin was kind enough to give her a ride to the airport via his motorcycle, and she planned on taking a cab home, since they weren’t crunched for time once Holtz was actually there.

               

The two hours were killed by _attempting_ to read a book, and compulsively checking her messages for an update from Holtzmann. Erin looked around the giant space around her, from the bench area where she had settled. The nervousness made her wonder if this was really the right part of the airport, or if Holtz would end up at the opposite end by herself. She checked the terminal number at least half a dozen times before she could convince herself that this was, indeed, the right place.

               

Finally, at 12:30, a chime from Erin’s phone made her jump in her seat, and she pulled it from her bag so violently that it made several other people sitting nearby turn to look at her.

 

                _Holtzmann: I’m here_

_Holtzmann: I still need to go by baggage claim but I’m coming to see u first_

               

Erin’s palms are sweaty, her heart beating like a jackhammer. She gets up from the bench and wanders closer to where Holtzmann should be coming from, eyes darting through the crowd of passengers emerging from their flight. She wrung her hands as the minutes dragged on for small eternities.

               

Finally, a head of curly blonde hair appeared amidst the throngs of people, and Erin knew immediately that it was her. Once the crowd thinned out a bit more, there was Holtzmann, locking eyes with Erin, and then she was running, and Erin was running, and they didn’t care that people were staring because they crashed together in a nearly-painful embrace, and it was too overwhelming for them to notice the odd looks and occasional mutters. Holtzmann stumbled back a few steps from Erin’s impact, but her arms were wound tightly around her waist, face buried into her shoulder, lifting her off the grown by a couple inches. Erin had her own arms wrapped around Holtz’s shoulders, since the backpack she wore added to the awkwardness of their hug.

 

They remained pressed together for several minutes, before breaking apart at arms-length to get a proper look at one another. Erin was overcome with emotion, and had to fight back the tears in her eyes, while Holzmann’s smile was so wide that she had to cover it with her hands for lack of being able to stop. After several more minutes of hugging, and pulling back, and hugging again, they find their voices and decide to stop blocking people’s paths so that they can retrieve Holtz’s luggage.

               

While they wait for the conveyor belt to bring the suitcase around, Erin and Holtzmann steal glances at each other. They still haven’t worked up to a conversation yet, but both of them are trying to think of what to say. By the time the large silver suitcase emerges, they’ve only managed a handful of words. Holtz grabs the handle of her luggage, they head towards the door, and Erin calls them a cab as they walk. Once they’re in the cab and heading back to the apartment, Erin takes a deep breath and smooths her palms against her jeans.

               

“So, how was your flight?”

               

“Decent. No screaming kids and I got a window seat. On the downside, I just don’t like flying.”

               

“Me either,” Erin agrees. “Abby always tries to convince me to get a prescription for the anti-anxiety meds, but I just don’t fly very often so it never comes up.”

                 

“It’s not really an anxiety thing for me. I know that the plane will almost always do what it was built to do, it’s just that I’m a very fidgety person. I like to get up and move around. Being cramped up in a seat for hours on end is torture.”

               

“I’m sorry,” Erin says, biting her lip.

               

“I didn’t mean that this whole trip is torture for me or anything,” Holtzmann adds quickly.

               

“Well, I’m going to try my hardest to make it worth the flight to and from.”

               

“Don’t worry,” Holtzmann replies, “You’ve already made this worth it.”


	13. Chapter 13

Erin smelled like plain detergent and some kind of heavenly name-brand shampoo of a vaguely tropical nature. Almost as soon as Holtz met her in person, she began to take inventory of any and every observable quality. So far, she’s also learned:

 

  1. Erin eats with practiced delicacy, she purposely paces herself and always covers her mouth before speaking. Likely out of self-consciousness.
  2. She has faint bags under her eyes (which are the most _bea-utiful_ grey color) as evidence of her tendency to worry about every little thing, and not get enough sleep.
  3. She picks and pulls at her clothing when she talks, constantly smoothing the palms of her hands over her jeans in what Holtzmann assumes is a self-placating gesture.
  4. She seems to have difficulty with making eye contact for extended periods of time, _but_ she seems to have no problem looking right at Holtzmann.
  5. Her apartment is, as Holtz guessed, completely and utterly spotless, not a single item out of place. She notes also that she really should scrub her own place from top to bottom if she ever wants Erin to visit and _not_ have a coronary.



 

The list is slowly growing in Holtz’s mind as they spend their first day together. First of all, Erin takes her home to drop off the impressive suitcase she’s brought, filled with anything and everything she could possibly need. She enjoys touring around Erin’s place, carefully looking at every spine of every book on every bookshelf, examining the vast collection of novelty coffee mugs, poking her head into Erin’s room briefly and taking note of the pale blue walls and the periodic table poster, and all the other nick-knacks that were so perfectly Erin.

 

Next, they walk down the street, and Erin babbles about New York, and how crowded everything is all the time. They eat at a burger joint a few blocks away, and Holtzmann has Erin snorting with laughter by the time they’re finished. They manage to also find a small park nearby and take a stroll along the bike path, making sure keep to the far side of it. Holtzmann discusses the fact that she spent a lot of time in New York as a kid, she actually has family in the area who let her visit during breaks from school. Erin replies that she’s lived here pretty much all her life, other than her early childhood spent in Michigan.

 

Erin asks many questions about Marie Curie. “The cat, not the Polish physicist,” she adds quickly, barring Holtzmann from any smart-mouth remarks. She knows the blonde too well.

 

“Ah yes,” Holtz nods, drumming up all the trivia she can think of. “She’s a long-haired calico who I found near the place I go to collect scrap metal. Actually, I found her mom, who was enormously pregnant. I took her home, and managed to help her deliver the whole litter. I gave all the cats to good homes, but I kept Marie.”

 

“Why? Was she the runt?”

 

“Nah, she was actually the most beautiful of the bunch. I was selfish and kept her for myself.” Cue devilish smirk, cue Erin quickly looking away. Holtzmann continues as if she hasn’t noticed.

 

“Anyway, she’s a little fat, she likes to barf in my shoes when she’s mad at me, her favorite spot to sleep is the back of my couch, annd,” she pauses to lick the inside of her mouth, trying to supply another fact, “she only tolerates one other person in this universe, Dr. Gorin, which is why she’s the one who’s checking in on her while I’m gone.”

 

“How’s your project going by the way? Is Dr. Gorin happy with it?”

 

“Oh, yeah. It’s going real smooth. We’re actually coming up on total completion. Gorin is pretty pleased, she even smiled the other day. Or maybe she was clearing her throat, it’s hard to tell the difference.”

 

They spend the entire day talking. It’s amazing to think that they couldn’t even form sentences at first, when now it’s all Holtzmann can do to keep her thoughts from tripping over each other as they spill out of her mouth. Eventually, after wandering the city on foot, they make their way back to the apartment. When Abby finally gets back from work, she releases a loud squeal, and she and Holtzmann crash into an embrace similar to the one she and Erin shared that morning. Her arms squeeze around the smaller woman, and lift Holtzmann up off the floor for a moment. Abby comments that she has bird bones.

 

Eventually, after a couple hours, Erin manages to reign in the other women’s excitement enough that they clean up the mess of open books and pages of X-Files theories so that the trio can start heading towards Patty’s house for dinner. Holtzmann ducks into the bathroom and changes out of her Einstein t-shirt in favor of a grey button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows. One swipe through her hair with her fingers and she’s back out the door, just in time to catch Erin in a blouse and skirt ensemble that has her breathing a little shallow. They all pile into a cab downstairs and head over to Patty’s townhouse, only for the taller woman to also practically scoop Holtz off the ground in her excitement. She hasn’t felt this thoroughly loved in her entire life.

 

The three of them proceed to go to eat together, and they stay at the restaurant until it closes at midnight, then go back to Patty’s where they continue to talk the entire night. Erin falls asleep somewhere around three in the morning, leaned against Holtz’s shoulder. She decides this is even better than when Marie passes out on her chest some nights.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, Erin presents Holtzmann with a whole itinerary for their day, each item obviously chosen with the utmost critical thought. They go to an art gallery featuring an exhibit of bizarre sculptures, the essence of which are extremely Holtzmann-esque. She walks up to a female form, which has been painted neon pink, and whose features have been elongated outwards like her face is caught in a giant vacuum, and holds her from behind like the famous scene from _Titanic_. Erin laughs and takes a quick photo on her phone before the curator ushers them away from the piece, looking mildly irritated by their immaturity. They thread their way through the exhibit in a similar manner, Holtzmann’s poses becoming more and more ridiculous, and Erin's laughter harder to contain.

 

Despite Erin’s protests, Holtz convinces her into taking selfies beside a giant electric blue whale sculpture that’s floating on a sea of TV static. She puts an arm around Erin’s waist while the other positions her phone in front of them.

 

“Holtzmann, I really don’t—“

 

“Hurry up and smile or Mrs. Doubtfire is gonna come back over here and kick us out,” Holtz replies quickly, and manages to make Erin crack a smile in time to snap the picture. They giggle like teenagers as they shuffle hurriedly away from the physically imposing older woman when she rounds the corner, eyes locked on them. The pair escape the museum unscathed.

 

After lunch, Erin fidgets, looking a little embarrassed when Holtzmann asks what’s next on the list.

 

“Um, I found a roller rink,” she confesses it like she’s in trouble, but Holtzmann just beams at her like she’s the most perfect woman on earth (which, at this point, Holtzmann is sold on that notion).

 

“You want to roller-skate?” She asks, obviously ecstatic.

 

“Well, I mean, you’ve never told me personally, but I remembered from one of your videos that you used to be on a roller derby team? I thought it might be fun to do that together. And also I was running out of fun ideas.”

 

“Erin, nothing would make me happier.”

 

They make it to the rink, which is actually quite upscale and spacious. It seems popular for teenagers and young couples, but Holtz tries to ignore the fact that most people considered coming here a date. They each rent a pair of skates and make their way to the edge of the rink before Erin takes Holtz’s elbow and wobbles.

 

“I haven’t done this since I was twelve,” she confesses, sounding well beyond nervous. Her voice is just a little squeaky.

 

Holtzmann pulls Erin’s arm to wrap all the way around her bicep, patting her hand reassuringly. “I won’t let you fall, I promise.”

 

With a shaky nod, Erin lets Holtzmann lead her out onto the concrete floor. They go slowly, taking baby steps and sticking close to the walls. Occasionally, Holtz offers quiet advice and encouragements, and Erin keeps nodding, but her hand squeezes around the blonde’s arm the entire time. After an hour, they work up to a faster pace, and Erin is teetering almost on her own, smiling down at her skates and occasionally looking up to also smile at Holtzmann.

 

Finally, Holtz coaxes her into the center of the rink, and twirls her around to the music playing through the loudspeakers (it’s an 80’s playlist today, because of course Erin would plan everything to the final detail). Erin squeals in a mixture of delight and terror as she and Holtz actually start moving around like they both know what they’re doing. She almost falls a few times throughout, but the engineer is always there to steady her.

 

At some point, Erin sits to the side and watches Holtzmann skate, which is definitely a sight to see. Despite the blonde's tendency to fidget and bounce around when she's walking, she's extremely graceful on skates, and even does tricks for Erin like rolling backwards, or lifting one leg up.

 

After roller-skating becomes tiresome, the pair move on to a small strip of secondhand shops and antique stores, which of course makes Holtzmann grin ear to ear. They make their way down aisles filled with vintage masks and animal skulls and tarnished silver teacups. Holtzmann procures a half-dozen new shirts and vests and an old canvas jumpsuit, which has Erin convinced that she’s a thrifting wizard. She even finds the brunette a pair of stylish ankle boots with enough of a heel to be considered formal. Erin swears that they’re the most comfortable she’s tried on in years, after recovering from watching Holtzmann get down on one knee to slip each shoe onto her feet.

 

“A perfect fit,” she says like she’s prince charming, winking at Erin before disappearing once more into a sea of crushed velvet and hand-stitched beading.

 

After the day is done, and they’re back at the apartment, Erin goes to the store for snacks and leaves Holtzmann and Abby to their own devices. The engineer sprawls across her bed, while her spectacled friend sits cross-legged on the floor, thumbing through a stack of DVDs.

 

“So, did you two have fun today?”

 

“Houston, we have a problem.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“You know how I said I think I _might_ be in love with Erin?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Well, now I know for sure.”


	14. Chapter 14

The rest of the week is packed with activity. Erin and Holtzmann spend the daytime running around the city together, doing all the stereotypically touristy things they can think of, and they hang out with Abby and Patty in the evenings. Holtz buys an “I heart New York” t-shirt, and a Statue of Liberty mug.

 

They take Abby to see _Hamilton_ on Friday night for her going away celebration. The tickets were far from cheap, but the other three women were more than happy to chip in for it. At the end of the night, Holtz and Abby are walking arm-in-arm and belting out _Non-Stop_ into the empty streets. Erin would be worried that they’re drawing unwanted attention to themselves, but they’re already outside of the apartment complex.

 

Once inside, Abby puts the kettle on and they all sit down in the living room together to talk about the musical, carrying on until the high-pitched whistle tells them the water is boiling. Patty leaves early, reluctantly letting go of Holtz after a five minute hug.

 

“You come back and visit soon, okay?”

 

“Baby, I couldn’t stay apart from you if I tried.” Holtz wags her eyebrows flirtatiously, but she sounds sincere all the same.

 

“And call us when you get home so we know you’re safe.”

 

“Of course, Patty.”

 

The taller woman nods and waves at Erin and Abby before she departs, and Holtz stands in the doorway, watching Patty disappear down the hall. Shortly after, Abby yawns, a bit exaggeratedly, and nudges Holtz before claiming she was too tired to stay up any longer.

 

“Well, I’m going to bed. Thank you for a wonderful evening you two.” She smiles and hugs both of them before going to her room, promising over her shoulder to wake up early the next day to see Holtzmann off. It’s obvious what she’s trying to do, after all the increasingly less subtle ways she’s been trying to get the pair alone all week, and the sly looks she’s been sending Holtzmann. If Erin has noticed, though, she hasn't shown it.

 

In the silence between the engineer and the physicist, the former begins to scavenge blankets and pillows from around the room and gather them into a big pile. Erin looks at her quizzically before suddenly understanding what Holtz is trying to do. With the addition of Erin’s comforter, and a couple chairs for support structures, they erect a fort around the couch and sit on a mound of pillows on the floor with the lights turned off. _Wizard of Oz_ plays quietly in the background while Erin yawns and rests her head on Holtzmann’s shoulder. The blonde swallows, before she’s finally worked up the nerve to gently take Erin’s hand into hers.

 

“Mm, you’ve got such warm hands…” Erin mumbles, obviously halfway to unconsciousness. Her thumb mindlessly rubs circles on the back of Holtz’s hand.

 

“I think you should take into account how corpse-like yours are, my dear,” Holtz murmurs, trying to keep her breathing normal.

 

“I have bad circulation, I’m always cold.”

 

“Well, get over here and I’ll fix that.”

 

Holtz removes her hand in order to sling her arm around Erin’s shoulders. The brunette scoots into her side, sighing softly.

 

“Better?”

 

“Much.”

 

They watch Dorothy fall asleep in the poppy field, then the big number in Emerald City, and the flying monkeys carrying Dorothy away to the witch’s castle. Holtz can’t focus on the lyrics, she’s too busy stealing glances at Erin’s peaceful expression, the delicate curve of her eyelashes, and the softness her face takes on when she doesn’t have the weight of the world on her mind. Gently, hesitantly, Holtz presses a kiss to her forehead, then freezes in place, waiting for Erin to suddenly wake up in outrage and kick her out of the apartment. She doesn’t, though, she just lays against Holtz’s side, snoring softly.

 

Eventually, the Wicked Witch is defeated, and Dorothy is back home in her bed in Kansas. Erin has passed out cold, killing any momentum to any sort of serious conversation. Holtzmann doesn’t mind too much, she just maneuvers the physicist into her arms and carries her to bed. Another conversation for another time, she supposes.

 

* * *

 

 

Saturday morning is hectic as all hell, a mad rush to get all of Holtz’s things packed up and ready to make the flight back to San Francisco. Erin, despite adhering to a strict schedule, is dragging her feet. Time has gone by too quickly, she wants it to slow down enough to get used to the idea of her empty apartment, without the sounds of Abby burning bacon in the kitchen, or Holtzmann curled up at one end of the sofa with her dog-eared book and her argyle socks. She wants more late nights spent draped in blankets, the pleasantly hazy memories of soft words and warmth.

 

The airport is bright and empty and freezing cold, and Holtzmann is jiggling her leg anxiously beside Erin while they wait for the last hour to pass.

 

“It’ll be okay, we’ll see each other soon,” Erin says, trying to sound encouraging. She reaches over to pat Holtzmann’s hand.

 

“I know. I just really don’t want to go.” Holtz looks away from the terminals to lock her eyes on Erin. “This whole week feels like a blur. I wish I lived closer to you guys.”

 

“I wish you did too,” Erin admits. Her hand still hasn’t left the engineer’s.

 

After an eternity, and not long at all, the flight is announced, and they begrudgingly approach the terminal together. Erin hands Holtzmann the jacket she’d lent her, and the blonde blanches before quickly digging into her pocket.

 

“I meant to give this to you before, but I made you this. Had to work pretty hard to get it onto the flight here.” She pulls out a small metal object and presses it into Erin’s hand.

 

Upon being handed the item, Erin holds it up to inspect it: a small circle of metal with a “u” welded to it, and a screw crossing diagonally behind it. The back of the object has a pin attached to it. She thinks immediately of the trademark necklace that Holtzmann always wears.

 

“I only make these for a select few,” Holtz explains, “which is to say myself and Dr. Gorin. Welcome to the club.” She grins in mock excitement at the prospect of a new member to this fictional club of women who wear vaguely rude hand-crafted jewelry. Erin pins it to her shirt without a hint of irony.

 

“I love it, Jillian. Thank you.”

 

“It’s the least I can do, Erin.” Holtz flashes one of her dazzling smiles.

 

They hold each other tightly, and linger a little too long in the middle of the foot traffic. People start to give them irritated looks. Holtzmann is about to finally turn away when she suddenly takes Erin’s hand and kisses it.

 

“I’ll miss you.”

 

“I’ll miss you too. Call me when you get home?”

 

“Will do.” Holtz gives a little salute, and then she’s gone, and Erin is alone in the giant airport.

 

Erin’s head is still spinning from the little kiss, but her chest aches as she wanders back towards the exit. She’s so caught up in her own head that she runs right into a brick wall of a chest.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry—“ Erin begins to stutter, but then she recognizes the handsome face. “Kevin. What are you doing here?”

 

“Heard you needed a ride.” He smiles at her in that way that used to make butterflies erupt in the pit of her stomach. Now it just makes her feel a little less alone.

 

“Oh, um, yeah. That’d be really nice, actually.” She returns the smile.

 

As they go out to the parking lot together, walking side by side, Kevin glances at Erin and notices the way she’s frowning, once again lost in her thoughts.

 

“Have you had breakfast yet?”

 

“Huh? Oh, uh, I had a banana this morning…”

 

“Why don’t you and I go stop by a coffee shop?”

 

“I don’t want to impose—“

 

“Erin, we’re friends, and I haven’t seen you ‘round lately. Maybe you can fill me in on all your new science stuff.” Kevin bumps her shoulder with his own in an attempt to lighten the mood.

 

Erin eventually agrees, and they take a quick ride to the place they usually meet at before work. They chat for a while, about the odd activities Kevin does in his spare time, and Erin’s week of Holtzmann-filled excitement.

 

“You sound like you really like this Holtzmann girl,” he comments between bites of his coffee cake.

 

Erin looks into her tea, thumb rubbing against the warm ceramic of the mug. She thinks of the pillow fort again, then the airport. Her fingers move to touch the metal brooch pinned to her shirt.

 

“I think I really do, too.” 


	15. Chapter 15

Abby doesn’t blame Erin for moping around the apartment on Sunday. She makes sure to tell Holtzmann about it, though.

 

                _Abby: She’s been pathetic and miserable since you left._

 

_Holtzmann: I don’t know how to feel about that_

 

_Abby: I’m telling you, Holtz. I really think she has it bad for you._

 

_Holtzmann: And I’m telling you, Abigail, that I think you’re biased._

 

                _Abby: Will the two of you get your heads out of your asses and talk about this? I’m going to be in England next week until September, and I really don’t want the two of you to suffer in silence for three months._

 

                _Holtzmann: Alright, alright_

_Holtzmann: I’ll see about talking to her_

 

_Abby: Good luck_

 

* * *

 

 

“ _Idiot_ ,” Holtzmann hisses when she picks up her phone for the seventh time, before setting it back down. Out of all the things she’s fearless of, why can’t romance be one of them? The engineer stares bitterly at Erin’s contact screen, but she’s unable to hit the “call” button. She locks her phone and tries to once again build up her nerve.

               

Erin has been single for two weeks now. Is that an appropriate amount of time to declare her interest in the physicist, or should she wait longer? Holtzmann doesn’t have nearly enough dating experience to draw on, so she turns briefly to the internet. Three pages of _Yahoo Answers_ later, she groans and shuts her laptop.

 

* * *

 

               

The 12th comes too soon. Erin wakes up before the sun rises and cooks a huge breakfast for Abby and herself. They apartment feels so much bigger now that they’ve packed away most of Abby’s possessions, the walls are bare of vintage movie posters, the bookshelves are emptied. It takes ten minutes to get all of her luggage to the door, then down the stairs to the lobby. A shuttle from the airport pulls up outside the building, and they haul everything inside before climbing aboard themselves.

               

It’s a quiet morning. Neither of them quite know what to say to each other, there don’t seem to be any words to describe what they’re feeling. Erin and Abby haven’t been apart for more than two weeks in almost five years. The physicist is afraid she’ll break her carefully constructed façade if she starts to say that she’ll miss Abby, and those words don’t mean enough to convey it properly anyway. She refuses to break down until the plane is in the sky.

               

The airport is beginning to feel familiar, but it also makes Erin feel sick to her stomach. She’s having to say too many hard goodbyes in front of these terminals.

               

“Here we are,” Abby says, but she gets too choked up and instead they decide that now’s the time for a bone-crushing hug. It’s painful, how tight they’re squeezing each other, but Erin wants to memorize the way it feels to bury her face in the warmth of Abby’s shoulder, to breathe in the particular off-brand perfume she wears, her dandruff shampoo, the plain detergent on her clothes.

               

When they pull away from each other, Abby sniffs and manages a reassuring smile, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I’ll be back before you know it. And we’ll talk on the phone or Skype every day. I promise.”

               

“Just go make history, and stay safe.” Erin returns the smile, patting Abby’s arm. “And try not to buy too many nick-knacks.”

               

“You can’t stop me,” Abby replies with a chuckle, and hugs Erin again before she heads off to the terminal. Erin stands there, watching her best friend disappear into the crowd of people. She stands there for several minutes afterward. This time, Kevin doesn’t show up to take her home, no one does. Erin hails a cab and wanders around the city for a while before she braces herself to go back to the empty apartment. When she opens the door, however, she’s greeted by Patty, who’s grinning at her from the sofa with her laptop laying across her legs.

 

“Did she make her flight alright?”

 

Erin nods glumly.

 

“Oh, honey, come over here.” Patty sits up and waves Erin over to the sofa, pulling the smaller woman into her side. Erin rests her head on her shoulder and sighs.

 

“What are you doing here anyway? Not that I don’t love having you, of course.”

 

“I knew you’d be sad when you came back, and I didn’t want you to be alone,” Patty replies, rubbing Erin’s arm. “And Holtzy felt the same way, which is why she demanded to call us as soon as you got back.”

 

“Hence the laptop?”

 

“Yeah, and I’ve got Skype loaded up already.”

 

Erin considers Holtzmann again, something she’s been doing constantly since she watched the blonde board her flight back to California. Everything about the woman just made sense, no matter how ridiculous or bizarre. Since the very beginning of their relationship, she was always there for Erin when she needed her, always sincere and gentle and kind. She looked at Erin like she was the embodiment of the moon and stars themselves, she hung on every word like it was gospel. She had a laugh that was halfway between the cackle of a witch and the bright ring of a bell, she was hard lines and blurred edges, calloused hands and laugh lines. Every detail was a messy contradiction, but it all came together into one completely cohesive person. Erin was worried that all these things meant that she was falling for Holtzmann, and the prospect was terrifying. The realization didn't feel like the random emergence of a new emotion, it was more like waking up from a dream one morning and suddenly remembering every vivid detail in the middle of the day. It was like she knew the entire time, but she just didn't have a name for it. All of this amounted to nothing, of course, because the physicist has no idea what to do with the information.

 

She and Patty cuddle up on the couch together and call Holtzmann. Erin smiles and participates in the conversation, but her mind is miles away, thinking about a hypothetical world where she and Jillian are happily together. Dream World Holtz talks animatedly about the latest technological advancements in NASA’s Mars exploration while they curl up on the sofa together, Real World Holtz is trying to get Erin’s attention.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Huh? Yeah, sorry.”

 

“You spaced out there.”

 

“Yeah. I guess I’m just tired.”

 

Her lack of attention is overlooked, so she just sits beside Patty and does her best to engage in their conversation to avoid suspicion.

 

Eventually, Patty goes home, and Holtzmann has to log off to do her laundry before she has to resort to wearing scarf-shirts again. In the complete silence of the apartment, Erin gives herself permission to cry for ten minutes, before forcing herself to get over it. She walks around and cleans up whatever is the least bit dirty or out of place.

 

That evening Holtzmann returns with a proposal of a movie date, to which Erin agrees. They watch _The Princess Bride_ , and Holtz can quote all the best lines in each character’s specific voice, which earns her the occasional smile from Erin. Eventually, the credits roll, and they’re both ready to go to bed.

 

“Well, good night,” Holtz says, stretching her arms over her head and yawning. “I’ll be around tomorrow if you need anything.”

 

Erin doesn’t know what it is, but in the moment she gets brave, and the words leave her mouth before she can think them through.

 

“Hey, um, Holtz?”

 

“Yes?”  The engineer smiles at Erin and leans into the camera. Suddenly, the words are gone, and Erin just stares back blankly.

 

“Nevermind, it’s nothing,” she replies quickly. Holtz’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, but she doesn’t press it.

 

“Well, alright. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

 

“Okay. Good night.”

 

"Good night."

 

Erin shuts the laptop quickly, huffing.

 

“ _Idiot,_ ” she hisses.


	16. Chapter 16

Erin handles the silence for all of two weeks before it becomes too much to bear. She starts staying late at work every night, anything to kill time so that she won’t be alone with her thoughts in her empty apartment. Her friends do everything in their power to make things easier on her: Patty makes time in her busy schedule to visit her at least once a day, Abby calls and texts her constantly with updates, and Holtz still Skypes her every Friday. It’s not enough. She still feels the energy draining from her body, her motivation, and her feelings. The numbness is starting to settle in like a heavy fog, she finds herself laying on the bathroom floor after a shower, staring up at the ceiling as her thoughts fade into TV static. She oversleeps on her days off.

               

To say that Abby is concerned is a major understatement. She urges both Holtzmann and Patty to double their efforts, to keep up Erin’s morale as much as they possibly can. From California, there’s not much else Holtz can do but send Erin goofy pictures of Marie Curie and all the god awful puns she can think of. It’s Patty, ultimately, who steps up her game. Once a week, she goes over to Erin’s place and spends the night, no negotiations, and no buts about it. This tactic is much more effective, it seems to put the physicist at ease just to have someone in the apartment with her at night. Patty doesn’t mind that much, after all, Abby’s bed is comfortable, and it’s worth it for her to see her friend a little less unhinged the next morning.

               

Erin isn’t blind, she knows what they’re all doing. She eventually puts on a brave face so that Abby can focus on her exciting new research in England, and so that Patty can sleep in her own bed at night. To her, it doesn’t matter that her friends are more than happy to make accommodations for her depression’s sake, it’s more important that they don’t worry about her at all. She lies and says that she’s feeling better, and she’s so convincing that they believe her. She goes on like this for almost a month, and by then she’s convinced herself that all she has to do is keep pretending that everything is fine, and it will be. Just don’t think about the loneliness, don’t think about dying unloved, and whatever you do, don’t think about your friends all moving on with their lives and leaving you behind.

 

* * *

 

               

It’s a little over a month since Abby left, when Erin starts getting calls from Phil. At first, he just calls and hangs up immediately when it goes to message. After it becomes clear that this isn’t working, he starts leaving messages, each one ranging from “I just want to talk”, to “please reconsider, I know I said some stupid things, but I miss you”, to “I don’t know why you’re being like this, I only want to talk like adults”. She doesn’t bring them up to anyone, just deletes them as they come in, and assumes they’ll eventually stop. Eventually, she’s proven right, and her call log is once again free of his name.

               

Erin is walking out of a local bakery when she runs right into a solid chest. For a moment, she thinks that once again it’s Kevin, but then she looks up and sees brown eyes, not grey.

               

“Fancy meeting you here,” he says, in a way that suggests it isn’t a coincidence at all. He’s trying to be friendly, though, looking nothing like the hateful eyes and the ugly scowl from the night Erin walked out. In fact, he looks sheepish.

               

“Phil,” Erin says, sounding like she’s caught halfway between icy and civil. She feels sick to her stomach.

               

“You haven’t been returning my calls.”

               

“Was there anything else for us to talk about that I’m not aware of?”

               

“Erin,” Phil sighs as if she’s being difficult when all he wants to do is be nice, “we did have a relationship before things went wrong. Do you really want to just walk away without even trying to work it out? “

               

“You didn’t seem the least bit concerned about that for an entire month, Phil.”

               

“I was hoping you’d call first. And work has been a nightmare, to be fair.”

               

“I had no reason to call, _you_ did.”

               

“I think we both made mistakes.”

               

“ _Really_? You think that—“ Erin drops her voice when people start to look over at them, “you think that _I_ have anything to apologize for? At all?”

               

“Well—“

               

Erin holds her hands up to silence him. “Goodbye Phil. Please, don’t call me again.”

               

“Erin—“

               

She keeps walking, face composed into a look that could kill. It’s all she could do not to throw up on the way home, but she’ll be damned if she lets anyone see her affected by this worthless man, the man she used to think was perfect for her, maybe even her future husband.

               

She hates herself for reacting to Phil at all. It’s been a month, and Erin’s been telling herself that he doesn’t matter, that she’ll move on. She can’t help it, though, when she sees him and suddenly her mood is ruined. She doesn’t want to cry, necessarily, but she did fall face-first into her bed as soon as she got home, and stayed there for the rest of the evening.

               

A chime makes her raise her head off the pillow long enough to see her phone screen lit up on her desk. After a moment of contemplating if it was worth it to get up and check her texts, and another chime, Erin pulls herself up and retrieves the device before retreating back into her fortress of misery.

 

              _Holtzmann: Hey_

_Holtzmann: Don’t freak out_

_Holtzmann: But come to the door real quick_

 

Erin squints at messages, making sure she hasn’t misread something. Come to the door? Why the hell would she—

               

The physicist suddenly bolts upright and leaps out of bed, nearly bowling over a bookshelf on her way to the living room, and stubbing her toe on the coffee table before she skids to her door. Once the deadbolt is pulled back, and the chain, Erin flings the door open to reveal Holtzmann, grinning nervously with a suitcase at her feet.

               

“Surprise!” she sings, but she can’t get anything else out before Erin pulls her into a bear hug. She has the wind knocked out of her momentarily, but quickly recovers enough to rub Erin’s back. “Sorry I didn’t ask beforehand, there just wasn’t any time to coordinate beforehand, and I just _really_ wanted to see you in person—“

               

“Don’t ever apologize for this.” Erin says quietly into Holtz’s shoulder. “ _Thank you_.” Her mind is reeling, she feels like she’s so lonely that she’s hallucinated this, that surely Jillian isn’t so perceptive that she could see past Erin's mask of "I'm fine"s, so good to her that she would drop everything and travel across the country just to see her in person. Nobody had ever done something this grand or romantic for her before. Now she could kind of see why Phil thought it was weird. It _was_ , for friends.

               

“I’d do anything for you, my dear,” Holtzmann says softly against her neck. She pulls back to hold Erin at arm’s length, smiling.

 

She’s _so_ beautiful, is all Erin can think.


	17. Chapter 17

The apartment still smells like the macaroni and cheese they burned for dinner when Erin and Holtzmann lay on the living room rug and stare up at the ceiling.

               

“When I was little,” Erin begins quietly, pretending that the white popcorn texture are hundreds of little stars, “I used to pretend that ghosts were real.”

               

“What if they _are_ real?” Holtz asks with her typical amused smile, but no hint of teasing.

               

“There’s no scientific proof for it, for one thing, but who knows…? That’s not my point, though. I mean that when I was little, my imaginary friends were all ghosts, I read every scary storybook in the library at school. Most little kids like superheroes and animals that can talk, I was…creepy.”

               

“I would’ve talked to you on the playground.”

               

“I just feel like there’s this weird theme to my life where _I’m_ always the part of it that doesn’t makes sense, you know? Like, I have a good job, good friends, and I had a good relationship, but then I’m the one who doesn’t fit in with it all. I grew up in affluent Michigan, I should’ve had a better childhood than most kids do. But I was the weird girl who didn’t sleep enough and who talked to herself in the bathroom. I thought that’s where the ghosts hung out. The lights would flicker and the hand-driers would randomly come on, and I thought it was their way of telling me that they understood, and that it would be okay.”

               

“I went to a decent public school. Caught frogs in the fall, played in the mud when it rained, scraped my knees a bunch.” Holtzmann looks like she’s glossing over some of the less favorable moments of her childhood, like there’s something darker beneath the surface. Erin doesn’t ask. “I was the weird kid who couldn’t sit still, couldn’t be quiet, always did my math assignments ahead of time. Eventually I was put on the fast-track for the honors classes in junior high, but after a series of lab accidents, my parents decided it was best  to just homeschool me.”

               

“Oh.”

               

“Yeah. But I still went to college, still went to graduate school, still got a PhD, and even worked for the government for a spell--didn’t work out, creative differences. Point is, I didn’t have a single friend other than Gorin until I met you. And then you introduced me to Abby and Patty, and now it’s like I have my own little family. You just gotta wait for life to sort itself out sometimes. Your hard work will pay off someday, and trust me, you’ll fit right into it.”

               

Erin is quiet, but she doesn’t feel a need to speak. They just stare up at the ceiling, each thinking about what the other said.

               

“I was a spooky kid, too. Just so you know.”

               

“Really?”

               

“Oh yeah: ghosts, aliens, monsters, serial killers. You name it. I even hung out at the cemetery, but to be fair I only did that to hop the fence to get to the lake at the country club. I skipped stones all night.”

               

Erin hums. “When the kids at my school found out about my ghost thing, they decided to see who could startle me the most. Didn’t help my anxiety, to say the least.”

               

“Kids are mean,” is all Holtzmann says. She sounds like she knows better than Erin.

               

After a while, Holtz excuses herself to take a shower. Erin sits up and flips through channels on the television, looking for anything of interest. It’s already somewhere past midnight now, but she doesn’t feel tired.

               

Finally, Holtzmann emerges in a cloud of steam, wearing a baggy _Godzilla_ t-shirt and a pair of boxers. Erin tries not to have a heart-attack at the sight of the engineer with her hair down, which falls well past her shoulders. She sits beside Erin, busily brushing through her wet tangles.

               

“Anything good on?” she asks. Erin stares.

               

“What?”

               

“I said—wait, go back. I think that’s _Predator vs Aliens_.”

               

They stay on the Monster Marathon channel for two hours before Erin starts yawning. Holtzmann takes the remote from her and shuts the TV off before pulling her to her feet.

               

“Alright, bed-time,” she says, guiding Erin by the shoulders to her bedroom.

               

Erin yawns again as she begins kicking off her pants and then climbs into bed. Holtzmann stands to one side, looking like she isn’t sure what to do. She almost turns to the door, but Erin grabs her hand.

               

“Would you mind sleeping in my bed with me…?”

               

“Not at all,” Holtz replies, a bit quickly.

               

Erin wakes up the next morning with her head resting on Holtzmann’s chest, their legs overlapping one another. The room is cool, but the bed is perfectly warm. She never wants to get up, but instead of depression being the culprit, it’s pure contentedness.

 

* * *

 

               

Holtzmann stays for over a week. She claims that since she’s between projects, Gorin has given her a little leeway to stay in New York. Normally, Erin would feel guilty about it, but she’s too relieved by Holtz’s presence to care. Abby is extremely grateful when she finds out, happy that Erin is no longer alone. Patty is ecstatic to see the blonde, practically sweeping her off of her feet in a hug when she sees her. The days are a little brighter, Erin’s depression is more manageable than before.

               

For lack of any alternatives, Erin brings Holtz to work with her, which isn’t a problem once the other members of her department find out who she is. Many of her colleagues have read Holtzmann’s publications. She mostly sits in Erin’s desk chair and wheels around the room, and sometimes she just sits and watches the physicist at work. She messes up her math several times, because having Holtzmann watching you wasn’t exactly conducive to having good concentration on what you’re doing.

                 

They eat lunch in Patty’s office, and walk home together at the end of the day. Erin can’t help but think that it would be so much nicer if this was a permanent arrangement.

               

At the end of the second week, it all went to hell.

               

The morning started up as usual, Erin and Holtz both ate a light breakfast and headed to the university together. Then, Holtzmann got a call and almost left the lab without saying a word to Erin.

               

“Holtz! Where are you going—“

               

The engineer wheels around to face Erin, eyes wide and not a trace of color to her face, her lips pressed into a hard line. “My mom.”

               

Erin’s brows draw together in concern. She puts her marker down and starts walking towards her desk. “Your mom? Did something happen?”

               

Holtz shakes her head as though she’s trying to clear away a jumble of thoughts, her eyes locked onto Erin as if she’s trying to make sense of everything, but can’t. “Sorry. I meant Dr. Gorin. She, uh, she collapsed. At work. I need to go.” She heads back for the door, and this time she doesn’t stop when Erin calls after her.

               

The brunette barely has time to grab her bag before she chases after Holtzmann. She almost thinks that she’s lost her, when she walks outside of the building to see the engineer nervously pacing, obviously buried deep inside her own head. She looks like a child lost in a grocery store. It scares Erin.

               

She approaches hesitantly, as one might approach a deer. “Holtz…? Are you okay? Is Gorin okay?”

               

Holtzmann nods, hands fidgeting. “Yeah. Sort of. She’s in the hospital. I don’t know what to do, I need to fly back. She doesn’t have anyone but me.”

               

Erin nods, rubbing Holtz’s shoulder. “Just take deep breaths. We’re going to go home, get your stuff, and then we can look at plane tickets. Okay?” The engineer says nothing, face still blank, so Erin straightens her back and leads Holtz all the way off-campus and back to the apartment.

               

Once she coaxes Holtzmann into packing up her things, Erin opens her laptop and hunts down a flight for late that night. The tickets are a bit steep, but she figures that an emergency warrants a higher price.  By the time she’s booked the flight, Holtzmann has composed herself enough to speak in coherent sentences.

               

“I’m sorry, Erin. I really wish I could’ve stayed longer,” she says once they’re in the cab to the airport.

               

“Don’t worry, you’ve given me more than enough these past couple of weeks,” Erin assures her. “Besides, we’re still going to be together.”

               

“What?”

               

“I’m going with you. Already bought the tickets, so no arguing.”

               

Holtzmann just stares.

               

“I figured that you’ve done so much for me, almost ever since we met. And I want to do something for you. You need someone to help you through whatever you’re going back to in California, and I want to be that person.”

               

Holtzmann says nothing, just clears her throat and holds onto Erin’s hand for the rest of the cab-ride. Later that night, Erin finds herself on an airplane, with Holtzmann’s head resting on her shoulder as she sleeps.


	18. Chapter 18

“It’s nothing serious, I don’t know why everyone is making such a fuss,” Dr. Gorin says while suppressing a cough. Her unruly hair is down from the typical bun, gathered at her shoulders instead. She looks nothing like her usual formidable self while she lays in the hospital bed, instead she looks pale, weak, and softer than Holtzmann has ever seen her before. It’s absolutely _petrifying_.

 

“Quit looking so scared, I’m fine.” Gorin reaches out and pats Jillian’s hand. The engineer can’t even form words, she’s been mute ever since she and Erin arrived at the hospital. Her companion didn’t want to intrude on this inevitable conversation, so instead of going into the room with Holtz, she went down the hall to the vending machines. They were by themselves with only the heartrate monitor breaking up the silence between them.

               

“I….I talked with the doctors.” Holtzmann swallows, but her mouth still feels dry. “They told me they’re testing for cancer. That’s definitely _something_.”

               

She knows Rebecca well, she knows how similar they are. If the positions were reversed, Holtz is sure that she’d be the one assuring Gorin that cancer isn’t anything to worry about. That’s just the way both of them worked. She knows this, but she still can’t bring herself to be okay with it. She doesn’t want her mentor to lie about this for her peace of mind, she needs to hear what’s really going on. It’s the only way she can try to fix it. To have any kind of control over it.

               

“It’s much more likely that I’ve just pushed myself too hard these past few weeks. I haven’t been getting nearly enough sleep lately, or proper nutrition, and I’ve had a slight cold. Once I’ve rested, I’ll be back to normal.”

               

“This hasn’t ever happened before. Not even to _me_ , and I pull the self-destructive self-care neglect shit way more than you ever have. If it was just a suppressed immune system from your cold, stress, sleep-deprivation and malnutrition, the doctors would have already diagnosed and be treating you for it. They don’t know what you have yet, though. They already told me.”

               

Holtzmann isn’t used to being in this position, the one who has to take the reins and call other people out on their shit. She’s always been on the receiving end of these kinds of conversations, or else she’s been to the side, observing someone else going through it.

               

“Jillian, you’re getting carried away, like you always do. It’s no good for you to be getting worked up over this, neither of us have any control over what the test results may be. We might as well just wait and be calm, so that when the news comes, whatever it is, we’ll be mentally prepared for dealing with it.”

               

It’s all the admission that Gorin is willing to give. Holtz just sits in the bedside chair, counting the veins on the back of Rebecca’s hand, trying to conceive of how she could possibly ever be prepared to hear that she has a terminal disease. Somehow, Holtz’s brain has always assured her that, in spite of anything else that could happen, Dr. Gorin would always remain a constant in her chaotic life. The prospect of that being completely untrue was the scariest thought to ever cross her mind.

               

Erin returned from feeding ten dollars’ worth of singles into the vending machines and tapped on the glass window of the door.

               

“Who is that?” Gorin sits up more in the bed, brows drawn together quizzically.

               

“Oh--” Holtzmann suddenly remembers that the world still exists outside of this sterile white room, and hops to her feet. “That’s Erin,” she replies quickly before going over to the door to open it.

               

“Ah, so _this_ is your Erin?” Gorin’s brown eyes are studying the physicist, top to bottom, and she suddenly looks much more like her old self, the analytical scientist that she is. Erin shrinks under the scrutiny.

               

“Hello,” she says, shyly approaching the side of the bed not occupied by Holtz. Erin places the random candy bars and bottled tea and individually wrapped sandwiches on the bedside table before taking Dr. Gorin’s outstretched hand and shaking it. “Yes, I’m Erin. Nice to finally meet you.”

               

“I wish we could’ve met under better circumstances,” Gorin replies, frowning. “Jillian’s told me so much about you, though, and I’ve read many of your publications. You’re certainly a bright and accomplished young woman.”

               

Erin chuckles nervously as she takes the only other empty chair. “Thank you so much. Holtzmann has also said a lot about you, too. Your work is incredible.”

               

As Holtz reclaims her seat, the world seems to tilt back into some sort of normalcy. She watches silently as her two favorite people sit and carry on pleasant conversation. She can tell by the look in Rebecca’s eyes that she is indeed very pleased with Erin, and Erin’s smiles eventually ease into relaxed rather than anxious as they continued to discuss various topics.

               

Eventually, a nurse dropped by to let them know that visiting hours were over for the day. Holtz wanted to argue that she was family, that she wanted to stay the night here, but a glance at Erin made her reconsider. The pair bid Gorin good night, and Holtzmann promised that she’d be back first thing in the morning. The nurse assured her that they’d call if anything changed during the night.

               

Erin tried to keep her spirits up, but Holtz was off in her own world as soon as they were out on the street again, walking back to her apartment. It was unnerving, since in Erin’s own life, Jillian had always been the level-headed one. She wasn’t quite prepared for this role-reversal, but she was certainly going to do her best.

               

“We should get some real food,” she says, glancing around them. The options were slim, considering it was already ten at night. The streets were still lit, but there were far less people out and about, and even less restaurants open. Suddenly, a flash of neon yellow caught Erin’s eye, and, after stopping and squinting, she could make out the sign of a 24 hour diner. Not exactly five star dining, but it was something.

               

“Come on, let’s go eat there.” She points to the sign, and Holtz follows the line of sight before she vaguely registers what it says. When she shrugs and makes a noncommittal grunt, Erin grabs her hand and leads her across the street.

               

It’s brightly lit inside, despite being almost completely empty. There’s one man in the corner, wearing a security guard’s uniform and reading from an old book, and an older woman at the counter. A tired-looking waitress makes eye-contact with Erin from behind the counter, and gestures for them to pick a seat before disappearing into the kitchen.

               

After sliding into a booth, Holtz shrugs off her jacket and sets it aside. She folds her arms on the table and hangs her head, feeling absolutely exhausted.

               

“Sorry for not being the life of the party right now,” she says, looking up enough to meet Erin’s eyes.

               

“Don’t apologize, please,” Erin replies immediately. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now, and I’m already proud of you for being this strong. Let me be the put-together one for once.” Holtz musters a smile. The waitress hands them each a menu.

               

Once they’ve had their fill of French-fries and patty melts, morale has improved considerably. Holtzmann appears to be in good enough shape to make small-talk as they finish the journey to her apartment.

               

“Now, before we go inside, I just want you to know that I had no idea you’d be visiting,” Holtz warns, sounding wary of having to reveal her house of horrors to Erin. It can’t be helped, though, so she pushes the door open and steps inside first to get the lights.

               

Erin stands in the doorway, eyes wide, as she takes in the _sheer amount_ of stuff lining every inch of the interior. Holtz has accumulated _mountains_ of books, _piles upon piles_ of strange, half-completed devices, _carpets_ of various gloves and goggles and jackets and shoes, _everywhere_. It’s absolute chaos.

               

“Er? You okay? Is it really that bad…?”

               

Suddenly, a movement amidst the clutter catches her eye, and Erin walks all the way across the living room, stepping over all kinds of papers and gadgets, and scoops Marie Curie up off a stack of notebooks.

               

“Oh my gosh,” she breathes, cradling the large cat gently, as not to scare or hurt her. She turns back to face Holtzmann, who’s watching her with a look of amusement. “I love her.”

               

“She seems quite taken with you. Pretty much anyone else would’ve been sliced up from the neck down if they’d just gone over and picked her up like that,” Holtzmann remarks, walking over to join them. She scratches Marie behind the ear, and they fall into a silence.

               

“Here’s a plan,” Erin says, glancing around.

               

“Yeah?”

               

“You go visit Gorin tomorrow, and I’ll stay here to work on this mess.”

               

“...deal.”


	19. Chapter 19

Erin feels like it’s intrusive of her to be left alone in Holtz’s apartment, to sort through all the belongings she had lying around the place. Which was, to say, all of it. Jillian seems relieved though, that something will be done about her clutter while she tends to Dr. Gorin, so the physicist is happy to do it.

               

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of Holtz’s bedroom, Erin begins with the clothes. Most of the vests and jackets are clean, even if wrinkled, but some of the shirts have obvious pit-stains and smears of unidentified liquids on them. Slowly but surely, she sorts the articles into two piles, and eventually she moves on to the living room. Occasionally, Marie Curie will come over and rub up against her legs, or jump onto whatever Erin’s cleaning to be petted. It’s slow going, for sure, but once the discarded plates are returned to the kitchen, and the books are put back onto the shelves, the floor eventually becomes visible.

               

By the time Holtz gets back, it’s almost ten again. She looks absolutely exhausted, and even her clothing seems to reflect it with its unusual lack of flamboyance. Erin looks up from the stack of movies she’s going through.

               

“Welcome home!” she calls, smiling nervously. She hopes that there isn’t any bad news.

               

“Thanks,” Holtz sighs, hanging her jacket on the rack by the door before flopping unceremoniously on the couch. “It looks amazing in here, by the way,” she adds, taking in the surroundings.

               

“Thanks,” Erin replies, scooting out from behind the last of the clutter. She dusts off her jeans as she stands. “Did you know how many laptops you own?”

               

“Three? Or is it an embarrassing amount…?”

               

“Six. You have six.”

               

“In my defense, two of them are in the process of being gutted for other things, and three others are being used to make one big one.”

               

Erin shrugs. “I’m not judging, I just wanted to make sure that I found them all.”

               

“Who can say?”

               

“Should I order something? I would’ve made us dinner but I didn’t see anything in the kitchen.”

               

“Yeah, you probably should, I cleaned the fridge out before I went to New York to see you.”

               

Erin takes out her phone and looks online for nearby places that offer takeout. “Italian?”

               

Holtz gives a thumbs up.

               

Erin orders and walks over to sit on the couch with Holtz, picking up her legs briefly in order to sit underneath them. “Do you want to talk about it?”

               

“She seems to be stable, at least,” Holtzmann replies. “They should have the test results tomorrow morning.”

               

“Well, that’s something,” Erin says, trying to sound optimistic. She hopes it doesn’t come off as annoying.

               

“It is,” Holtz agrees. She reaches over to the nearby footstool to retrieve the TV remote, and then they’re plunged into the familiar screams of the Monster Marathon channel. Erin settles into whatever low-budget production is on, with Holtzmann’s legs on her lap.

               

A half an hour later, the food arrives. Holtzmann looks half out of it while she eats, but happy nonetheless. Erin wonders if she’s even eaten at all today.

               

“You know what, Erin Gilbert?”

               

“Hm?”

               

“You’re going to make someone a mighty fine wife someday.”

               

Erin blushes and looks down at her pasta. “Shut up and finish your calzone.”      

 

* * *

 

               

The week wears on the same way. The tests revealed that there was, in fact, no cancer. They planned to hold her until that Sunday, but considering that she was still completely stable, they agreed to release her to Holtzmann to care for her and make sure she’d be under watch in case she collapsed again. They'd continue to bring her back in for checkups, and to run more tests.

               

As Saturday drew near, Holtzmann took Erin’s hand and squeezed it. “I think you should go back.”

               

“What?”

               

“It’s been almost a week. You need to go back to New York. You’ve gotta be running out of sick days by now.”

               

“But—“

               

“Er, I mean it. You’ve been absolutely fabulous. I wouldn’t have made it this far without you. At this point though, I think I can handle it on my own. You've got a job back home, and Patty. And that one big dumb guy. Carl.”

 

"Kevin," Erin corrects, trying to hide her amusement.

 

Holtz smiles back at her like she knew his name but was trying to lighten the mood.

               

Erin looks into her eyes, searching for any hint of a lie. Finally, when she couldn’t find anything but assurance, she relented. “Alright, I’ll see if I can catch a flight tomorrow.”

               

It was all a blur, going back to the airport, the too-tight hug in which they lingered, boarding onto the plane and looking out the window to see the ground becoming farther and farther away.

               

Patty is there to pick her up that evening, but can’t stay the night due to an early appointment the next morning. Erin is once again alone in her apartment. No fluffy calico cats, no cluttered living rooms, no Holtzmann. She’s halfway through one of her frozen meals when her phone suddenly rings with the familiar tone of _She’s a Bad Mama Jama_.

               

“Abby?”

               

“Hey, I finally caught you! I feel like we’ve been playing phone tag this past couple weeks.”

               

“Yeah, sorry. It’s been…absolutely insane since you left.”

               

“How’s Holtzy holding up? Have you heard anything?”

               

“Nothing new. I think she’s holding up.”

               

“Well, that’s good at least. How are you doing?”

               

“I don’t know,” Erin sighs, and scrapes her fork in the plastic container. “I think I’ll be okay, too. I’m almost getting to the first draft of my book.”

               

“That’s fantastic! You should totally email it to me when you have the time.”

               

“I will. How’s work over there going?”

              

“Oh Er, it’s the most incredible experience of my career. The only thing that could possibly be better would be if you were here with me.”

               

“That’s so good to hear, Abby.”

               

“Speaking of which…it’s going so well that they’ve asked me to stay…longer.”

               

Erin feels dread building in the pit of her stomach. “Oh? How much longer?” She clears her throat, one hand smoothing over her leg.

               

“Permanently,” Abby sounds apprehensive.

               

Erin stays silent for a solid minute, her mind going blank. “Wow,” she manages to say.

               

“I haven’t given a reply to that yet, of course. That’s a lot to consider, moving to a whole different country,” she pauses, and then says, in a sadder voice, “moving away from you.”

               

“But you _are_ considering it,” Erin says, meaning to sound like she’s clarifying when in reality she just sounds bitter.

               

“I am. It’s a lot to think about, but it’s definitely a huge opportunity for me. I need to make sure I make the best decision for myself.”

               

“I know,” Erin replies, feeling guilty. “I know it is. God, it would be so cool if you got to be a permanent part of a research team in England. I’m sorry. I’m just tired, and emotionally hungover I think.”

               

“I understand completely. It’s totally okay that you aren’t jumping for joy right now. I’d actually be pretty bummed if you were, to be honest.”

               

Erin cracks a barely-there smile. “Of course I’d be sad. I’d be… _so_ sad if you moved away.” She covers her mouth, hoping Abby didn’t catch the way her voice broke at the end of the sentence.

               

“Well, it’s early here, which means it’s late there, so why don’t you hop into bed?”

               

“Yeah, you’re right. Good morning, Abby. Love you.”

               

“Good night, love you too.”


	20. Chapter 20

Erin sits cross-legged on her bed, with about a dozen postcards spread out in front of her and a stack of photo albums at her side. On second thought, it might’ve been a bad idea to completely take apart her room and reorganize it, but it kept her busy during her days off from work. The closet had already been gutted, stripped away of the immaculately arranged garments, and Erin had discarded about a third of them before hanging the rest back up by color. Now, the contents of her bookshelf were laid out all over the floor. The books themselves were easy enough to sort through, but now she was at all the nostalgia and keepsakes, and had been sucked into the vortex of reliving happier days.

 

Abby had a habit of buying postcards and snow globes for Erin whenever she traveled for conferences. Already there were a couple from England on the pile, mixed in with the older ones from Miami, Houston, and Seattle. She picks up, not for the first time, the one from three years ago, when Abby went to San Francisco to be on an astronomy panel. She looks at the Golden Gate Bridge, emerging from the fog of a beautiful morning, and thinks about the fact that Jillian hasn’t called in the last five days.

 

After another hour of flipping through albums and remembering years’ worth of holidays and vacations, Erin gets to her shoebox of keepsakes that have no other home in her room. Inside are some polaroids from high school, of her and Abby wearing matching Halloween costumes, or going to homecoming together. Next are several beaded bracelets from summer camps and some newspapers clippings of her birthday horoscopes back when she was in high school and astrology mattered to her at all. Right on top of it all was a familiar piece of metal. Erin picked up the “screw u” brooch, carefully examining the detail work, and thinking once again about her feelings for Holtzmann.

 

In addition to all the things going on in their lives, including the uncertainty of Dr. Gorin’s health right now, there just didn’t seem to be any good time to broach the subject. Even if she could, Erin wasn’t even sure she wanted to. At this point, it wasn’t about whether or not she thought Jillian was beautiful, or if she thought they were a good match, it was a matter of being petrified of having the feelings be unreciprocated, or of messing up their amazing friendship, or Jillian eventually losing interest and moving on. She decided that she needed a best friend more than a girlfriend right now.

 

Just as the bookshelf was beginning to be reassembled, Erin caught sight of her phone screen lighting up from where it lay on her desk. Curious, she danced around the towers of books and binders until she was able to snatch up the small device.

 

_Holtzmann: Hey, you around?_

_Holtzmann: You still have Saturdays off, right?_

 

Erin takes a deep breath and reminds herself not to be passive aggressive.

 

_Erin: Yeah, I’m just doing a little cleaning. What’s up? I haven’t heard from you in a while._

 

Well, mission half-accomplished.

 

_Holzmann: Cheese and crackers, it’s really been five days? I’m sorry, Er. You must’ve been worrying. I’m okay, it’s just been insane on my end. Gorin is okay but grumpy from the bed rest thing. Also, the tests are still going on so we’re going to another specialist tomorrow._

 

_Erin: No, please don’t be sorry. I was worried but I understand how busy you must be with her. I’m glad to know that Gorin is doing alright._

 

_Holtzmann: Wanna skype tonight? I’ll have a window of Me Time from seven your time to midnight._

 

_Erin: Yeah, that’d be great! I’ve missed your face._

 

Wow, great job Erin. You useless bisexual.

 

_Holtzmann: Missed your face more xoxo gotta run!! See you tonight!_

 

She stares dumbly at the text for a moment before shaking her head and returning to the absolute disaster of her room.

 

* * *

 

 

The next casualty of Erin’s business was the kitchen. A marathon of Cake Boss played in the background as she tried to master an array of cookies, and she had failed to successfully bake two dozen already. The smoke alarm had yet to go off, which was a miracle, but the whole apartment was consumed by the stench of burnt snickerdoodles. The oven clock still read six no matter how many times she stopped to look at it.

 

Eventually, Cake Boss was replaced by Chopped, and Erin had eaten enough mediocre chocolate chip cookies to be over the concept of becoming a pastry chef. She checks her emails and finds the typical, monthly letter from her mother, who seems to be incapable of just picking up a phone and calling. Erin reads through it, deciding that an hour will have passed by the time she finishes her lengthy response and checks for grammatical errors.

 

In gist, everything is going fine in Michigan. Her father is staying late at work as usual, and her cousin Jenny is getting married in the fall. She reminds Erin to not overwork herself, and asks how Abby’s work in England is going. She also not-so-subtly asks if there’s anyone new in Erin’s life. The brunette decides to tackle the less-complicated questions, says that she’s been fine as well, that work isn’t taking up all her time, and that Abby is having the time of her life in England. She excludes all the meltdowns she’s been having in-between it all.

 

Sure enough, it was 7:30 by the time Erin was finished, feeling emotionally drained simply from tap dancing around all the problems in her life for the sake of keeping her mother at bay. She closed her web browser when a chime informed her that Holtz was online.

 

The conversation wasn’t one of their best. In the time between Erin returning home from California, and Holtzmann being too busy with Gorin to stay in touch, they’d lost some of their flow, and to Erin it felt forced at times. Eventually, though, they seemed to ease back into the conversation, laughed off the awkwardness and moved on. Neither of them seemed prone to excessive sharing, but it was obvious that Holtzmann was stripped down to the wire, utterly incapable of filtering the personal emotions from the small-talk of people who have too much going on to afford to reveal their personal emotions.

 

“I’ve just been thinking about my mom lately,” she says, suddenly, in the middle of nowhere. “My real-deal mom.”

 

“Oh. Why?” Erin asks dumbly.

 

“I don’t really know. I haven’t thought about her in a good eight years. She treated me awful, and drank all the time. I just think it’s weird that life has been nothing but good to her--like she’s won the lottery three separate times, and she’s married two absolute saints in a row. And I’ve only ever felt close to her when I was little and she wasn’t such a nightmare, whereas Dr. Gorin has been my kindred spirit since I was taking college classes at sixteen, yet Gorin is the one who’s suffering all these health complications. I almost wish it was my mom instead.”

 

Erin has no idea what to say. She stares for a long while, at Holtz’s tired eyes and unintentionally unkempt hair. It’s a lot of information to process, she isn’t even sure what to address first. Is it the fact that her mom was an abusive alcoholic? Or that Holtzmann wishes she was the one suffering from a terrible illness? It would definitely help if she could get over the shock that Holtz, who didn’t seem to have a mean bone in her body, was speaking about all this as if it was as trivial as the weather.

 

The engineer seemed to suddenly realize that her words were uncalled for, snapping out of her haze. “Sorry Erin, I don’t know where all that came from.”

 

“Don’t be sorry. I’ve been as tired as you are before, I know that your mental filter is the first thing to go. Maybe you should just go get some sleep?”

 

Holtzmann, who is usually so full of energy that it tires Erin out to even text her sometimes, looks like she’s one yawn away from passing out. She’d usually argue, but tonight she just smiles.

 

“My dearest, Erin, I think you’re right. We’ll have to save a longer conversation for another time, I’m sorry to say.”

 

“Don’t worry about it. Your health always comes first. Get some rest, alright?”

 

“Copy that. Good night, sunshine.”

 

“Good night.”

 

The screen is blank. Erin shuts her laptop and sits there a moment, suddenly aware that she has the rest of the night to go until she’ll be tired enough to go to bed herself. Chopped is just finishing when she checks what’s on TV, so instead she turns on her speakers and settles into the lengthy _Hamilton_ soundtrack while she picks up around the living room.

 

After half an hour, when the room is totally spotless, Erin sits back down on the couch with a glass of wine. Then, a specific lyric catches her attention, and she stays stuck on it until she finally goes to bed:

 

_“In a letter I received from you two weeks ago_

_I noticed a comma in the middle of a phrase_

_It changed the meaning. Did you intend this?_

_One stroke and you’ve consumed my waking days_

_It says:_

_“My dearest Angelica”_

_With a comma after “dearest.” You’ve written_

_“My dearest, Angelica.”“_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My life has been crazy hectic lately, so I honestly have no idea when I'll update next. I'd really appreciate it if you guys would be patient and sit tight until I can post more. I love reading your comments and knowing that you all like this story enough to want more, but this is a story I wrote for fun, and the last thing I want is to feel like I'm on a schedule. I never have nor will I ever say that I update regularly, so please just bear with me. xoxo


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a trigger warning for anyone with depression/aversions to depression-related subjects, including suicide and self-harm. Nothing in this chapter is explicit, but it's definitely heavier content than I've discussed in previous chapters. Feel free to skip this chapter if need be, and I'll try to recap the events next chapter.

Erin visits her old therapist when the numbness doesn’t go away. She hasn’t been this consistently miserable in years, and it’s starting to scare her.

 

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore…” she whispers down at her hands, folded atop her lap. They’ve been talking for over an hour and nothing makes sense yet. She’s already been over all the coping methods that aren’t working, the plates she’s broken from scrubbing too hard.

 

“You need to be honest with your loved ones about how you’ve been feeling, Erin. We’ve discussed in the past that this is one of your most destructive habits, and it’s hurt your relationships before. Just trust that your friends will understand, they’ll help you through this.”

 

“Have you ever wondered, if everyone knew how messed up you really were…the thoughts that go through your head, the way you look at yourself…do you think people would see you differently? Maybe even leave you, because it’s easier than dealing with your mess? I do. And I don’t want to be alone.”

 

“I’ve never met your friends, but if they are _truly_ your friends, then they’ll understand and help you deal with these thoughts. I know how hard it is to make yourself vulnerable to other people, but from everything you’ve said so far, especially about what they’ve already done for you in the past, you’ll be in good hands.”

 

Erin already knows everything Dr. Sanders will say before she’s said it. She knows it’s the right thing to do, that it will help her, but there’s always that irrational mantra in her mind, chanting “they’ll all leave you. Every single one of them.” Even Holtz.

 

The air is cool by the time Erin leaves Dr. Sanders’ office. She walks several blocks until she finds a home improvement store, and buys four gallons of white paint, brushes, and a tarp for the floor. Once home, Erin shoves all her furniture to the center of her room and paints. Hours pass, and she feels dizzy, but the walls are all stark, sterile white. Like a hospital room. White is cleansing, right? Bright, healing, soft. That’s what she needs to surround herself with. She’ll heal herself.

 

She feels robotic when she answers her texts, makes sure no one is worried. She manages to make a small microwave pizza and take an hour-long shower before collapsing on her couch in nothing but her towel. She drinks half a bottle of wine before she falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

Holtz is worried, to say the least. Erin’s once cheerful (if a bit neurotic) messages have dwindled to simple phrases that hardly counted as sentences. Something was up.

 

Between the latest job she’d managed to snag, something temporary to pay the bills, and tending to a sick Gorin, Holtzmann could hardly find a spare moment to feed her cat, much less take the time to  properly evaluate Erin’s mental wellness. She was guilty every single day.

 

When she caught a break, she called. A glance at her watch said it was about eight o’clock over in New York.

 

“Holtz?”

 

“Hey, how’s it going?” She would usually ham it up, toss in some flirting, but her worry cuts through the pleasantries.

 

“Oh….you know…it’s going.” Erin’s voice is flat as she recites one of Holtz’s favorite phrases, none of the usual humor that goes with it. She sounds beyond tired, and her words are kind of…slurred?

 

“Uh…so hey, Gorin’s doing better these days. How’s Patty Cakes?”

 

“Couldn’t you just call _her_ and see?” Holtz almost flinches. Erin doesn’t apologize for the tone of her voice.

 

“Well, yeah. But…I guess I just wanted to know how she is in person?”

 

“She’s fine. Tired, I think.”

 

“You sound tired, too. Why don’t you head off to bed early tonight?”

 

“That sounds like a good idea.”

 

The forced small-talk carries on through their phone calls for the next two weeks. Every time Holtzmann calls, Erin is as emotionless as ever, and her comments are increasingly derogatory. The engineer doesn’t comment on it, she figures Erin is just going through a rough patch, and she needs a supportive friend more than Holtz needs an apology.

 

Holtz jumps at the chance to Skype. She’s anxious when the app loads. Erin seemed in better spirits today, which is why Jillian proposed a video call at all, but there was a tension present that she hadn’t felt before, not when it came to Erin at least.

 

Erin drinks throughout the call. Holtz tries not to comment on it, but after the fourth glass of wine she has to say something.

 

“Hey, you’ve been drinking quite a bit lately, maybe you should give your liver a break?” Her tone is lighthearted, but her laugh is nervous.

 

Erin pauses, mid-sip, and frowns. Walls are up.

 

“I’m not drinking that much. Aren’t you overreacting, just a little?”

 

“I don’t think-“

 

“I can take care of myself, I can assure you.”

 

“I wasn’t saying—“

 

“Then what are _you_ saying?”

 

“I’m worried, Er—“

 

“Worried about _what_? I already told you, I’m _fine_.”

 

“Relax, Erin. I didn’t mean anything by it. Just take a breath--” Holtz doesn’t do well under pressure. Holtz doesn’t do well when people she cares about snap at her for no discernable reason.

 

Erin must be just the right amount of drunk for her defensiveness to twist into ugly anger. “You don’t have to worry, I won’t become a drunk, like your mom.”

 

Holtz’s eyes go wide, her jaw tightens. The words shouldn’t hurt, not when she hasn’t cried for her mom since she was 12, but they do. She doesn’t try to respond, just ends the call before Erin can react to her own words. Then she’s left in the quietness of her apartment. She stares at the blank screen of her laptop for nearly an hour.

 

* * *

 

 

Erin hears the words leave her mouth, but it feels like she’s watching it all unfold from somewhere too far away to stop it. She hears the words, then she sees the flash of pure hurt cross Holtz’s face, like the most brilliant light suddenly going out, no hint of good nature or humor.

 

Why had she done that?

 

She never wanted to hurt Holtzmann, not on purpose at the _very_ least. Why had she done that? Erin falls onto her side on her couch, drawing her knees up to her chest. Her teary gaze fell on the mostly-empty bottle on her coffee table, and she thinks about what Dr. Sanders said. She was doing everything wrong, and on purpose. She was snuffing out every light in her life, just so she could be alone in the dark.

 

The next day, Erin didn’t go to work. She didn’t call in. She laid in bed with all her thoughts, and stared at the ceiling, trying to will away her despair, struggling to think of solutions, of good things, of why she should keep trying.

 

 _No_ , her brain reasoned, _you said terrible things to Jillian. She’ll never forgive you. And even if she does, you don’t deserve her after everything you’ve put her through. She’s better off without you._

The thoughts don’t go away _._ Erin doesn’t answer texts, or calls. She hardly gets out of bed at all.

 

Eventually, on the third day, Erin pulls herself up and checks her phone with dread heavy in the pit of her stomach. Abby and Patty have been calling and texting like crazy, both out of town and therefore only able to reach her electronically, and a few messages are even from Kevin. None are from Holtz. Erin turns off her phone without returning any of the calls.

 

She goes into the bathroom and looks in the mirror while she’s at it, might as well face the full brunt of reality. Her hair is close to matted, her eyes are bloodshot. She pulls the mirror to reveal her medicine cabinet behind it, and then she’s sitting on the bathroom floor, shaking some old pain killers into her hand, thinking about how nice it would be to just fall asleep. Stop thinking of terrible things.

 

Then she’s sobbing while choking and spitting a mouthful of half-dissolved but mostly-not-yet-swallowed pills into the sink. Falling back to the floor, coughing. Erin lays fully on her rug and feels the half-numbness of the pills taking effect, but also the quick breaths of panic wracking through her.

An hour later she stumbles into the hospital, hazily congratulating herself for making it all on her own, and even having the presence of mind to remember to take her wallet with her.

 

“My name is Erin, last name Gilbert…” she drawls, leaning heavily on the desk of the nurse’s station. “I think I just tried to kill myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Cliffhanger


	22. Chapter 22

Getting your stomach pumped is not an ideal Thursday night, in Erin’s opinion, and neither is being half-out of it and being grilled about how long you’ve been depressed, and who’s your therapist, and were you taking medication, and how long. After several hours of drinking lots of water, Erin found herself in a hospital bed, with a lap-full of paperwork and a killer headache. They were admitting her to the psych ward, she could already tell. The nurses kept stealing pitying glances at her when they passed the doorway.

 

The next order of business was admission. Erin was lead upstairs and down a long hallway, and through locked double-doors. No belt, no shoelaces, no keys. Everything was sealed up in a Ziploc bag with her name on it. The nurse there gave her an extra blanket and introduced her to a man named Jeffrey, who wore Crocs and a pair of dark blue glasses. Jeff was very warm and comforting, the kind of person that made an exhausted Erin want to sob into his chest while he stroked her hair. (Something Erin was sure many patients had done before.) He smiled and spoke softly, but never sounded condescending.

 

Her roommate was a woman with borderline personality disorder, her name was Kim. In the ten minutes they were alone, Erin counted at least five times Kim called her “bitch” in one sentence. By the time they were at the end of the conversation, Erin wasn’t sure if she had a new best friend or if she should sleep with one eye open.

 

The therapist assigned to her was named Dr. Ellen Lambert, a dignified older woman who was far more stylish than Erin could ever hope to be. Even her reading glasses appear to be designer.

 

“How are you adjusting so far?” Dr. Lambert asks, crossing her legs and resting a legal pad on her lap.

 

“Well…it’s been kind of a whirlwind since I arrived last night…” Erin was still hazy on the events that led up to her here, sitting in this freezing cold office, wearing unlaced tennis shoes and glancing at an intimidating array of college degrees. “I feel like I have whiplash.”

 

“That’s completely normal for someone in these circumstances,” Dr. Lambert nods, scrawling something onto her pad. “How do you feel?”

 

“Physically, or mentally?”

 

“Either or both.”

 

“Well…I’m fatigued from last night, I feel tired…and mentally, I don’t feel much better.” Erin glances through the window of the office and into the bustling hall. “Have you told my family?”

 

“We’ve already contacted your mother, she’ll be here in a few days I believe. We also contacted a Patty Tolan and Abby Yates, who were also on your list of emergency contacts.” Erin winces at this.

 

“Any estimation for if or when either of them would show up…?”

 

“Miss Tolan has said she’ll call when she has an idea of when she might be able to visit, and miss Yates has said the same. We’ll give you their contact information once we’re done with this meeting, I’m sure they’re both anxious to speak to you.”

 

Guilt stabs into Erin’s chest. While she was busy making an even bigger mess of her life, Patty was speaking at a national conference, and Abby was making breakthroughs in modern astrophysics. Hell, Holtzmann was holding down a job while tending to her ailing mother, and still managing to be a good friend in spite of Erin’s best efforts to throw her away. And now they were going to ruin their own success and happiness to once again come to her rescue.

 

“I know it’s hard, but try not to blame yourself,” Dr. Lambert says, apparently able to read minds. “You have been dealing with a very severe mental illness, and it’s incredible that you had the strength to come get the help you need, especially since you were alone at the time.”

 

Erin feels tears well up in her eyes, but swallows and tries to keep herself from breaking down.

 

The rest of the visit is unremarkable, the typical inventory of a first session. Erin leaves with a list of group activities, her schedule for the week, and a small piece of paper with several phone numbers written down in neat print, each attached to a name.

 

_Abby._

 

_Patty._

 

_Mother._

 

_Holtz._

 

There are two phones mounted on the wall of the main hallway, within eyeshot of the nurse’s station. Erin looks at her small list of names and punches in Patty’s number with a trembling hand.

 

“Erin?” Her normally collected tone is panic-stricken.

 

“Hey—“ she pauses to cover her mouth a moment, forcing herself not to cry. She takes a deep breath before continuing. “Hey, Patty. I’m okay…I’m settling into things here…” She doesn’t know where to begin, what to say.

 

Patty releases a sigh of relief and whispers something, sounding close to tears herself. “Okay baby, thst’s great. I’m so glad, I—I’ll be there just as soon as I can, okay?”

 

Erin nods, a few tears escaping and dripping from her chin. “Patty, can you please do something for me?”

 

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you a bag of clothes from your apartment and bring them with me—“

 

“Um, actually I was going to say—I want you to tell Holtzmann for me.”

 

“Abby’s handling that as we speak, I think. We just got off the phone.” Erin swallows.

 

“Okay, that’s good.”

 

“Don’t worry about a thing, okay? No stress, just focus on getting better. We’ll take care of the rest.”

 

“Thank you Patty.”

 

“Of course. We love you, Erin. Don’t forget that.”

 

“I know. I love you too.”

 

“I need to board my flight right now, but I’ll be there tomorrow, alright?”

 

“See you then.”

 

* * *

 

 

Holtzmann tried to stay mad at Erin, she really did. The weeks and weeks of nasty comments, culminating in what she’d said in their last conversation left a bad taste in her mouth. She _wanted_ to be mad, she _wanted_ to wait for Erin to beg for forgiveness, admit to how much of an ass she was being. So rarely did things go according to what she wanted.

 

Abby called, early Friday morning, sounding like she hadn’t slept in a week, sounding scared. At first, Holtz refused to acknowledge this.

 

“Holtz, I need to tell you something serious, so please take a deep breath and find someplace private.”

 

“Abby, I hope I don’t come off as too much of a dick when I say I need you to make this quick.” She could tell that this was about Erin, something in the back of her mind just knew.

 

“It’s about Erin—“ Ding ding ding, we have a winner.

 

“I don’t know if she told you, Abby—“

 

“Holtz—“

 

“--but Erin and I—“

 

“ ** _Holtz_** —“

 

“--aren’t currently on speaking terms. So if there’s something that needs to be said, she can tell me herself—“

 

“ ** _She tried to kill herself_** , Jillian. For the love of god, please shut up and listen to me.”

 

Holtz’s heart stopped. Her blood ran cold.

 

“What?” Her mind went from completely blank to hurtling at a hundred miles per hour. Arrangements, plane tickets, a cat-sitter. _Erin_.

 

The conversation is about the equivalent of trying to sprint while waist-deep in molasses. Abby explains the situation with as much detail as she can manage without actually having talked with Erin herself.  Immediately Holtzmann abandons the notion that she could ever hold a grudge against Erin ever again.

 

“I’ll be back in New York as soon as I can manage,” Abby says finally.

 

“Race you there.”

 

* * *

 

 

The next day is just as hard. Patty almost knocks Jeffrey down when he makes the grave mistake of getting between her and Erin. The duffel bag she’s holding has all the t-shirts and cardigans and sweatpants she could find in the apartment, and the only pair of slip-on shoes Erin owns. They sit in the common room and it takes several minutes before either of them can even attempt speech.

 

“I’m so glad that you’re okay,” Patty says, holding Erin’s hands tightly in her own. “I don’t know how we would’ve managed without you.”

 

Erin looks down at her lap, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry…” she whispers.

 

“I know.”

 

They sit in silence, trying to breathe normally.

 

“Abby called, and she’s on her way now. She says Monday night, at the very latest.”

 

“And Holtz?”

 

“I haven’t heard from her. Things have been touch and go with Abby too, we’ve only had a couple texts back and forth the past couple days.”

 

Erin nods slowly. “I’m expecting my mom tomorrow.”

 

“That’s good. I’m glad everyone will be here for you.”

 

 _Almost everyone_ , Erin thinks.

 

Her mother spends their visit alternating between relentless nagging, and complete and utter doting. It’s a balance only she is capable of.

 

Abby arrives on Tuesday, and her hug is the one that finally makes Erin sob pathetically for almost twenty minutes, loud and mournful. She strokes her hair and murmurs softly, and Erin can’t quite hear the words, but it’s the first night she’s slept soundly through in days.

 

On Wednesday, Holtzmann skids into the rec room, wide-eyed and as disheveled as Erin has ever seen her.

 

They cause quite a scene, nearly crashing into each other in a painfully tight embrace. Erin can’t let go for ten minutes, all she _can_ do is apologize. The nurse gives them a dirty look and tells them to find a place to sit down. Upon checking to see that Kim was, in fact, not in their room, they went inside and sat on Erin’s bed.

 

“I’m so sorry. I never should’ve said those awful things to you. I was horrible to you for weeks, and I hate myself for it. You didn’t deserve it.”

 

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I promise,” Holtz says, for the fiftieth time already. She’s real, she’s here, and she’s so close that Erin can smell her cologne. She feels a little dizzy.

 

“I’m in a mental hospital, and my life has been more eventful here than it has in months,” Erin laughs softly, for once feeling like things _could_ get better, in time.

 

“Hey, maybe that’s a good thing. Keep you busy and keep you going. That’s how I manage,” Holtz’s eyes are practically glittering, she looks so happy to see Erin that it’s almost heart-breaking. She’s looking at Erin like she could say anything and it would be the greatest thing she’d ever heard. As long as it was _something_. As long as Erin was alive.

 

“I think…I think things are finally going to start getting better,” Erin says, tentatively. Holtz leans over and knocks on the bedside table.

 

“That’s good, too. Try to think of positive things, so you can have something to look forward to, even when you’re feeling low.”

 

Erin doesn’t know _why,_ but somehow she decides that this is the perfect timing to kiss Jillian. It’s so fast that she almost thinks that she hallucinated it, but the stunned expression on the engineer’s face said otherwise.

 

“I, um,” Erin stutters, looking around the sparsely decorated room for something to say, a distraction, and excuse, _something_.

 

“I really like you, Holtz.” It’s spoken in a whisper.

 

“I really like you too, Erin.” No hesitation.

 

They look at each other for a moment before Holtzmann leans in and kisses Erin this time, brushing gently across the side of her face with her fingers, letting them linger in her dark hair. It’s slower than the first, more thought-out. _God_ had Jillian thought about it. So many times before.

 

When they break apart, slowly, Erin’s eyes stay closed for a moment longer. She wants to memorize how it felt so she can think about it for the rest of her life.

 

“I didn’t really want our first kiss to be in a psych ward,” she laughs.

 

“But you wanted a first kiss.”

 

“I want a first, second, and third kiss.”

 

Holtz cracks a smile.

 

“That can be arranged.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A gift, because last chapter was a little rough. There are a couple more chapters to come, but this fic is coming to a close soon-ish.


	23. Chapter 23

At the end of the week, most of the issues at hand had been sorted out, enough at least to allow Erin’s loved ones a chance to take a breather. She spent most of her days in various group sessions, doing various activities at the request of Dr. Lambert, and actually taking her new medication. Things were, in fact, settling down. Of course, that didn’t stop her from worrying through the nights about the next time she’d face Abby, now that the panic had died down. There was so much that needed to be said, and yet she couldn’t even string together the words and phrases that would express her feelings.

 

The answer to this dilemma came on Friday, the last day of her stay at the hospital. The evaluation on Thursday had proven to Dr. Lambert that Erin was no longer a danger to herself, and was fit to be released for out-patient treatment. All that was left was the processing of paperwork, which would take up the majority of Friday. Abby came to make sure everything was in order for her to pick Erin up that following morning, and she stayed afterward to talk.

 

“How have you been?”

 

“It’s been rough, but I think I’m making progress. Slowly.”

 

“I heard that you and Holtz…had a moment?” Cue smug grin.

 

Erin shifts in her chair, suddenly embarrassed. Abby and Holtzmann were inseparable, _of course_ they’d talked about the kiss. ( _Kisses_ , Erin corrects herself. _Plural_.) In fact, Holtz was probably staying at their apartment, so why did she ever think that this would be a secret? It wasn't not like she told Holtz anything about keeping this to themselves.

 

“…we did,” she says finally. Abby elbows her playfully from her spot to Erin’s left.

 

“Holtz won’t shut up about it. She’s been tearing through the apartment, trying to find little projects to keep her hands busy. Girl couldn’t sit still if I duct taped her to a chair. But all the time it’s _Erin_ this, _Erin_ that. She sounds like a certifiable expert on the subject of you.”

 

“Certifiable _something,”_ Erin replies, with far too much fondness in her voice.

 

“She took apart the DVD player this morning, by the way. It was still in pieces when I left, so don’t bet on watching any movies tomorrow.”

 

“Abs,” Erin can’t tell if Abby can feel the tension between them too, but she can’t keep making small-talk.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I wasn’t okay with you going to England.”

 

Abby sits there, face composed, like she already knew what Erin’s was going to say before she said it. She lets Erin continue without comment.

 

“I tried… _so_ hard to be okay with it. I tried _so_ hard, for you. I _wanted_ to be. But I don’t think I could ever be okay without seeing you whenever I want. I know that it’s selfish, but you’ve been the only stable part of my life for as long as I can remember. Every time I lost it, you were right there. It was scary, the thought of you not being there anymore.

 

“I was miserable every day that you were gone. I lied to you every time that you called. I’ve never been good at making new friends, so all I have is you, and Patty. And I know it’s wrong for me to put all my emotional problems on you two, but I’m not close to my real family…you’re all that I have.

 

“And you and Patty are different from me, you’re both so funny and confident and warm. It draws people to you. If I weren’t in your life anymore, you two could find new people to be in your lives. If you stayed in London, I knew you would eventually get a cute flat and a cute roommate, and you’d go to your fancy job and make all these amazing discoveries and win all these awards. And I’d still be here, by myself.”

 

Abby, for a moment, looks at Erin like she’s an idiot, but she thinks better of it and tries to look more sympathetic.

 

“Er, I would _never_ abandon you. No one on this planet could replace you. You drive me insane sometimes, but no one can make me laugh like you. Nobody gets me like you do. I want to grow old and be crazy old ladies with you, put our rocking chairs out in front of the nursing home, side by side. I’m really sorry that you suffered so much while I was gone, but I’m also so proud that you finally got the help you needed before you did something worse. And know that it’s always okay to ask for help. Always. You aren’t being kind to me by lying about being alright, because if you keep things like this to yourself, it’ll only get worse, and—“ she sucks in a deep breath, trying to calm down from the mounting anxiety in her voice. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Erin. I really don’t.”

 

“Abby, now that I’m getting help, and working on my problems, I just want you to know…I really am okay if you go back to England. I can’t stand in the way of your dreams, I just need to trust in the fact that we’re best friends, and that won’t change even if we live in different countries.”

 

“That’s awfully sweet, Er, but I’m not going back.”

 

“What?”

 

“I decided to finish up the summer in London, and return to my work in New York. Not that the facilities weren’t amazing, or my colleagues weren’t welcoming, but astrophysics isn’t my first love. I missed our lab, I missed the awful Chinese takeout, and I missed _you_. On our lumpy couch. Watching X-Files until three in the morning. I kind of stretched the truth when I talked about how much I loved everything. British people are disturbingly polite, like the anti-New Yorkers. I need more conflict in my daily routine. But you would always go on about how great things were here, I felt like I had to make it seem like I had it made, too.”

 

Erin suddenly feels like a ton of pressure have fallen from her shoulders. All she can think is how much simpler things would’ve been if they had both just been honest with each other.

 

“So, you’re moving back in?”

 

“Well, I’m flying back to London next Monday to finalize everything, but I’ll be home next month. For good.”

 

Erin smiles, she can’t help it. Tears well in her eyes as she thinks, not for the first time, how foolish it would’ve been to throw her life away, when all her biggest problems had solved themselves so easily. _Holtz_ kissed _her_. _She_ kissed _Holtz_. Their feelings were reciprocated. Abby wasn’t abandoning her, after all.

 

All was well.


	24. Chapter 24

Erin returned to a shockingly full apartment. The walls, which had been bare for months, were starting to disappear under the layers of Abby’s belongings, returned to their rightful places. Of course, this wasn’t nearly all of it, considering she’d left in such a hurry and probably had such little time to pack. Holtzmann made up the bulk of what was crowding the space, since she was a pro at stuffing two or three bags full no matter what the circumstances might be. She herself also seemed to always fill the space, her big messy hair and too-loud laugh.

 

The brunette retired to her room at first, to acclimate to the space after being away. It felt like years. Everything looked so unfamiliar, the reorganized shelves, the acrid smell of fresh paint still hanging heavily in the air. The only part that even looked like Erin had lived there at all was the disheveled mound of covers that was once her bed. The wadded tissues and empty food containers were gone from the bedside table, she noted.

 

Once the bed was stripped of the sheets, to be washed in the near future, Erin put away the few things that she had with her at the hospital. She cut off her plastic bracelet.

 

After a shower, and being able to look at her reflection without cringing, Erin felt more like herself. She was home now. Things would go back to normal, she supposed.

 

Well, maybe that _wasn’t_ true.

 

There would be bad days in the future, maybe even as bad as the last week had been, but there would also be happy days, and some of them would be even happier than she’d ever known. Depression never had a perfect solution, but there were things that helped. Therapy, medication, a support system. Abby and Patty would always be by her side, and Holtzmann, well, that hadn’t exactly been sorted out. They’d make it work somehow.

 

Once she rejoined her friends in the living room, Erin settled onto her lumpy old couch, curled up to Holtz’s side, Abby beside her, Patty over in the equally lumpy recliner. She couldn’t imagine a time when she would ever truly feel alone again. She was right where she belonged.

 

* * *

 

 

“I get that this is a very important life decision, but could you take _any_ longer?”

 

“Shh, I’m concentrating.”

 

“You know, there are perfectly good ones in pretty much any restaurant dumpster in town. For free.”

 

“I don’t want to go dumpster-diving, I want your patience while I make this choice. You said you were going to be supportive.”

 

Holtz holds her hands up in the universal symbol for “don’t shoot!”, but her eyes are glittering with amusement. She looks down at the back of her girlfriend’s printed blouse as the brunette crouches on the floor. _Fiancé_ , she corrects herself, a bit smugly.

 

“Okay. I think I’ve decided,” Erin says, slowly standing while cradling a tiny mewing object in her hands. She turns to Holtzmann and presents the kitten, a fluffy little guy with fur the color of smoke. He blinked his blue eyes at her and squeaked pathetically.

 

“Sold,” she grins, extending her finger to gently touch a tiny paw.

 

The kitten is paid for, and the couple exit the store hand in hand, Erin clutching a small box and Holtz with her free hand jammed into her pocket. The box squirms and squeals in protest, but to no avail.

 

“I’ve wanted a cat for _so_ long,” Erin says for the millionth time in her life, except this time her tone is victorious. “Not that I don’t love Madame Curie,” she adds quickly.

 

“No, I get it. I love my cat and I love that she’s mine. Now you have one of your own, and we’ll be an adorable blended family.”

 

“It was a lot easier to pull off now that we’ve got our own place.”

 

“So true. I think the past four months I’ve lived with you and Abby were the most miserable I’ve ever seen her.”

 

“She tried her best for you.”

 

“I know. She would’ve said no to pretty much anyone. Bet money that she’s power washing the cat hair off every surface in the place.”

 

“More likely burning the furniture.”

 

Holtz hums, suddenly thoughtful. “So are you happy?”

 

“About anything in particular?”

 

“About moving in together. Our own little closet in New York where we can fit an entire bed and a couple cats?”

 

“Of course I’m happy,” Erin glances down at her ring for a moment as they walk, out of habit. She smiles so wide that Holtzmann has no choice but to be satisfied.

 

“Good, because there’s so much still in store for us. A full and happy life. Two absolutely precious furry children. Lots of science. I’ve got plans for us, babe. Big plans.” Cue devilish grin.

 

“Toppling the government?”

 

“Oh, for sure.”

 

They carry on all the way back to their new apartment, which is still mostly unfurnished and occupied only with cardboard boxes and a newly-completed bedframe. It’s much smaller than Erin’s old place, but neither of the pair mind living in close quarters. Plus, it is located suspiciously close to Abby’s place. Or, Abby and Patty’s place, Erin corrects herself. She goes to the corner of the living room that has been deemed the Cat Zone, and places the box on the floor, allowing the kitten to explore his new home. Holtzmann goes into the kitchen to check their messages.

 

Eventually, once the kitten was safely curled up on a pillow, Erin followed Holtzmann into the kitchen, leaning in the doorway.

 

“I’m thinking Indian food tonight—“

 

Holtzmann holds up a finger to silence her, phone held in her other hand. Erin stops talking and instead shuffles to the fridge for a bottle of water.

 

“That was Gorin.”

 

“Oh, how's she doing?”

“Great, actually. Feels good enough to bitch about how many boxes she’s had to send over, and be a little passive-aggressive about not having me around. It would almost be sweet, if I didn’t already know that she only loves me for my brain,” Holtz taps her temple and smiles in the way that suggests she’s being completely overdramatic.

 

“She _does not_ ,” Erin shoots back dismissively with an eye roll. She retrieves her phone from her back pocket when it chimes with a message. “Patty’s offering to come over to help us unpack.”

 

“Tell her she’s a goddess, and that it’s BYOB.”

 

Erin scrunches up her nose in confusion. “We _have_ beer.”

 

“ _Box-cutter_. Bring Your Own Box-cutter. We don’t have any here, just a Swiss army knife and that rusty pair of sewing scissors we found in the bathroom when we moved in.”

 

Erin sighs a long-suffering sigh, but types out the message nonetheless. “She’ll be over in about half an hour.”

 

“Indian food, you said?” Holtz says casually, as if she doesn’t pay excruciating attention to everything Erin says, no matter how distracted she might be at the time. She’s already typing in the number for Erin’s favorite place, thumb hovering on the call button.

 

“Perfect.”

 

And she really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, sorry if this felt anticlimactic!I tried to ti e up the loose ends and create a time-jump epilogue for the lovebirds to the best of my abilities lol. 
> 
> I'm pretty sure this is all for me, in terms of writing HoltzBert fics. Both Cyberspace and Interpersonal were super fun to create, but I'm planning to branch out to other fandoms. I'll never get over the reception of Cyberspace, and all the kind words and kudos I've received. From the bottom of my heart, thanks for reading, and look out for other fics by me? Who knows, maybe I'll write for a fandom you enjoy
> 
> xoxo


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